Dragonage: The Knight Of Heide
by OmeganQueen
Summary: There's a thin veil separating worlds in creation's grand tapestry. And sometimes, a random soul falls between the threads that bind this veil. Falling to his death in the churning seas of Drangleic and waking up on the shores of Thedas, the Knight of Heide embarks on a quest to find if his arrival was by Fate's design or mere accident. ( Rated M, for obvious reasons )
1. Cross the Threshold

**To all my faithful and supportive readers:**

 **I just wanna thank ya'll for rooting for me and taking the time out of your lives to view and review my fics. For that, I'm gonna take another dive into this fanfic that I trashed some time ago.**

 **However it goes, I'm just winging it so it won't be much of a loss to me if I figure it to be just another lost cause…**

 **Anywhoo, let's get to it.**

 **As usual, a Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Souls 2 or the Dragonage franchise and its respected characters, with the exception of my OC's of course.**

 **Enjoy :)**

 **}!{**

The roll of thunder in the distance sounds so dull. Like the grumbling of a great beast, searching for its next meal.

I've had my share of great beasts crossing this wretched land.

My feet, though safe within those bradden steel boots, ache as though they have treaded upon thorned ground. They might as well have, for even as the curse wraps its long and gnarled fingers around the throat of the kingdom, choking it, ebbs out to produce an amalgamation of death and life.

Poison mists have shrouded the path I had left behind, and the green muck that covered most of the King's road produced an overwhelming stench that I could be certain had permanently stuck to the back of my nose.

Weary of the journey that took me nowhere, dragging my bruised and wounded legs over the rocks, I finally reached the spot that made it all worth it.

The cliff overlooked the churning sea below, its waves dashing against the sharp rocks that stuck out of its maw.

Here, I shall consign myself once again to oblivion's embrace.

No sword shall pierce my flesh, no beast shall chew upon my bones nor shall they rip me to shreds only to have me brought back for more.

Piece by piece, soul shard after soul shard, until I am finally Hollowed.

Effigy after effigy, all futile attempts to cleanse the taint that shall never leave. The Darksign.

But the ocean, in all her mercies, shall grant me the respite that the gods have denied me for so long. Whether such a notion should prove true, I couldn't care any less.

I am tired…

So so tired…

I need…rest…

The Hollowed men, dim reflections of loyal servants to my King, gathered around behind me, moaning all the while.

This would be my fate, should I let another shard of my soul be taken. To forever prey upon the innocent, mindlessly wander the earth and devour souls as if it were my daily bread.

Pain stabs at my back, and I grunt, nearly slipping prematurely into the murky depths of the sea.

Another arrow whistles through the air, following the first where it marked my shoulder, digging deep through my armor and biting down hard on my flesh. The force of the blow gives my body a slight shudder, but I still stood upon that ledge.

Like the grains of sand within an hourglass, each arrow loosed upon me forced me to look back on what little remained of my memories.

A cottage, a little garden that surrounded it like a fence, and then the picket white fence itself.

A woman who greets me, and then the child that she holds close.

Happy ones, all of them. A mercy granted that they shall never endure what I have…

I closed my eyes and gasp involuntarily as a spear bursts through my chest. Blood pours from the wound and from my gaping mouth as I fight for the air that I am so suddenly deprived of.

The Hollowed one that dealt the killing blow gave an incoherent groan and planted his foot on my back, pushing me off his spear and into the cold embrace of the waters below.

A splash, and the chilly waves engulf me. Darkness is prevalent in this place, but I welcome it like an old friend. For in Drangleic, light holds nothing but false hope, empty promises of a better tomorrow, hollow as the monsters that now plague its lands. There is only darkness…

From there, I came into this world screaming. And from there, I shall return in silence.

* * *

I wake up in Limbo.

I know it was thus, for I was suspended without a tether in midair.

Everything here was unnatural, and yet I have grown accustomed to its features. It wasn't anything different from Drangleic, yet still remains as the bridge between worlds. Life and Death, and what comes after.

I willed myself to float back to solid ground, eyes scanning the cavern floor for my fallen weapon. Finding it, I pick up the geisteel sword and sheathed it quickly, navigating the ruins I found myself in.

Thunder echoes in the distance, and my eyes slowly adjusted to the myriad of colors this plane of existence introduced.

This was a realm of dreams, then not the Limbo.

My mind percieved visions, erratic and broken like the stones that tore themselves off the ground and floated up to the sky. The intensity of the environment grew with each step, as if my weight set off the balance that tipped so dangerously towards chaos.

Then, as I emerged through a thick black mist and climbed atop a hill of bones, I caught sight of a city floating above the cracked and bleeding earth. From its towering spires, and nightmarish black walls came oozing bright orange fire, pouring into the cracks and setting the earth ablaze.

The whole ground quakes and heaves as if in labor, mirrored by the strong claps of thunder and bright flashes of lightning.

An army amasses at the gates, and I hear the war drums beat, and the horn sounds for the charge.

Then everything fades into blackness…

* * *

When I came to, I found myself half buried in wet sand, upon a shore in a foreign land. I knew it to be so, for as I rose to gain a bearing on my surroundings, I found not a single trace of the touch of the curse.

Another world? A figment of the erratic shifts and flow of time, perhaps?

Limbo has a way of sending me into places, but they never last long. In due time, I will return to Drangleic to continue my walk of penance, for a sin I had never committed. What exactly did I see in that vision?

I didn't have time to indulge in deep thought, for I heard the familiar clash of steel against steel, and the screams of dying men.

Moving to investigate, I emerge from the lake I had landed on and push my way through the forest before me.

Soon, I chanced upon a village in the middle of a raid. The innocents had scattered, chased down like hapless prey by a horde of ravenous human-like monstrosities. I had seen much that the curse had warped and twisted, and nothing at all seemed that different with these.

The Darksign may have erroded the surface of my humanity, like rot on an apple, but it hasn't reached the core just yet. My blade stands ready to defend the weak.

With that in mind, I joined the fight in grim anticipation.

My arrival was unexpected, much to my advantage, and so I easily cut a bloody swath through the surprised monsters. I hack and slash, gut and disembowel my way to the rear guard, using the simple tactic as a means to get close to whoever was leading the attack.

Geisteel cuts deeper than any metal known to man, and what little armor my enemies had was not even a challenge for my blade. I feel an arrow bite into my shoulder, but ignore it as I lose myself into the heat of battle, reveling in the splash of blood that covered my otherwise grey Heide Knight armor.

The exhaustion I had previously felt had left me completely as their souls left their bodies upon expiration. Soon, I proved to great a threat to go unnoticed, and the horde turned their wrath on me.

Seeing this turn of events, the defenders of the village stared in awe for a moment, probably debating whether to seize the chance to run or to come to my aid.

I didn't want them to fall to the monsters, I had them right where I wanted them and I didn't want to share the souls. "Get back!" I yelled as loud as my rotted throat could above the din of the dying, "Think of your loved ones and leave this place!"

I groan as a blade digs into my abdomen, pushing myself against the crooked sword and decapitating the grinning imp that dealt the blow with my own. Once the horde had stacked like a mountain of bodies over me, I channeled my rage into mana and let loose a mighty wave of blue light.

The soul furnace instantly turns them into ash and charred bone, scattering the survivors all over the bloodied street and setting fire to the cottages nearby.

Heaving with exertion, I scanned the battlefield for any more who dared oppose me next, satisfied with the amount of souls I accumulated. Then, I walked away.

This was a land that had its own curse. Yet, it wasn't without its own benefits. Those grayskinned monsters I fought had a peculiar taste in their souls, and I found myself craving it.

That was a dangerous motivation, but what else is there for me to do? I was turning into a Hollow anyway, I could at least prey on the wicked instead of the innocent.

"We did it! We fought against the darkspawn, and we survived!"

I turn my attention to the villagers, watching as they moved to save what could be out of the ruined town. Some of them had already packed what little belongings they had into wagons and started down the road.

"They'll be back, there's always more where that came from." An old man says with a grim shake of the head, sheating his sword before tending to his wounds.

My scarred and rotting features were obscured by my helmet, which aided in keeping the villager calm as I went to have a word with him. I needed answers, "What were those monsters?"

"You don't know, good sir?" He said as he wrapped a bandage over his hand, "Those were darkspawn. So far, this one's full of hurlocks, so we got lucky. Nobody's seen them for a few hundred years now. But if they're here, that could mean a Blight is underway, and that doesn't bode well for any of us."

The old man looks at the sword in my hand, then up to me. "I saw you throwing magic at those hurlocks. Normally, people'll lynch you. But with the way you've suddenly appeared out of nowhere and turned the tide in our favor, I'd say you've got a free pass this time."

"They can try." I said, unmoved by the threat of death.

He smiles, "Just saying. We're all grateful for the assist, even if nobody says so."

It was oddly pleasant to engage in conversation, other than the usual dance of blades I've had with the denizens of Drangleic, so I indulged myself for a bit. "You are not absent skill, old one. You were a soldier?"

"Haha!" The old man laughed, "No, I just got tired of getting robbed on the road to Denerim that I had to learn how to use a blade. There's nothing to it really, the darkspawn don't really have much going up here." He taps at his head to emphasize his point. "They can't really do much swordplay, I'm sure you've noticed."

He leaned back and regarded me for a moment, "You're not from around these parts, are you? I can tell from the accent, are you Amaranthine?

I shake my head, daring not to spill any secrets lest I look like a fool or an outcast. "I'd rather not talk about it."

The old man purses his lips and nodded, "Well, if you're a foreigner and looking to find your way, maybe you should stick with us for a little longer. The road'll be treacherous, and we'll need all the swords we can get for the journey."

I had no goal or purpose, so I gave my consent.

"Good." He extended his hand, "Around here, people call me Old Man Locketti, but you can call me Loki."

The curse had erroded my memory, so much that I cannot remember my name. So quickly, I thought of a way to make that predicament mean something. "Vandahl." I replied, shaking his hand in return.

The name actually means 'no name' in Heide gothic. Works for me.

 **}!{**


	2. Departure

**}!{**

"So Vandahl, you a knight?" Loki inquires as the wagon bounces along the rocky path. With the village, Lothering, destroyed in the darkspawn attack, it left the survivors with little choice but to leave the ravaged land. I didn't think it was a big deal travelling with these good folk, but I didn't appreciate the many questions they threw my way.

Yes, it wasn't just Loki pestering me. "I take it you don't get many visitors in Lothering?"

"Ah come now, no harm in asking is there?" The old man says with a goodnatured fist against my shoulder.

"No, I suppose not." I answered, staring at the pebbles stacked against the dirt road, "You're right. I was a knight, but that was a different life." I kept the details simple, "The king and queen gone, the empire submerged beneath the sea, and the subjects scattered."

"Sorry to hear that, friend. Hmm, got a feeling the same thing's going to happen here in Ferelden."

"You mentioned the coming of a Blight?" I changed the subject, "What is that exactly?"

"Ha! I guess where you come from, you don't get that sort of thing? Must be a nice place, living without fearing them monsters."

I remembered the curse, "No, it really isn't."

"Well, it's kind of a long story, this whole deal with the Blight and all. But we've got time, and the road to Gwaren is long." Loki answered my question, "Now, where to begin?"

"Ah yes, it all starts with Seven Magisters. Long long ago, these powerful wielders of the arcane tried to enter the Maker's Golden City using blood magic. Naturally, those who stand univited in a god's home, things don't necessarily end well. As soon as they entered the gates, however, the divine citadel was corrupted, and what was once golden turned to darkest night. Thrown from its lofty heights, the Seven returned to this realm, changed and twisted by the same magics they've used to enter the Maker's city."

"And these were the first darkspawn?" I asked.

Loki nodded, "Or so the tale goes, give or take five hundred years ago."

"You do not believe it?"

Loki chuckled, "Boy, if takes a hundred enduring years, nobody believes it. But if you want an explanation for the Blight and where the darkspawn come from, that's the tale for you."

"I see."

The caravan continues onwards, and the journey proceeds without an interruption. From my experience, I knew this respite would not last. It only takes a few hours for something to go amiss.

"What's that over there? Atop the hill?" Someone asks, pointing at a clump of trees in nearby mountain range. Five men on horseback stare down at the cavalcade of refugees, their demeanour of unsavory ilk.

"Bandits." Loki scowled, "Just our fucking luck."

I disembark from the wagon and unsheath my blade, "How many of ours can hold a sword properly?"

"Not enough." Loki pulls the reins for the horse to halt and reaches back into the wagon to fetch a woodcutter's axe. "Just you, me, and three who remain unscathed from the raid."

I turn to the three freshfaced youths standing next to Loki, "You three, guide the caravan onwards, do not stop for anything." I signal the others to come with me, "We'll take care of this."

"You heard me, didn't you?" Loki protests, "There's probably more where they came from, if so then they out number us three to one!"

"Would you rather be the victim, or bare your teeth?" I retorted, "Besides, they won't be focusing on you or the caravan, they'll be focusing on me."

"Oh, that's reassuring." He replied sardonically.

I ignored the old man and continue my march uphill, heading straight for the bandits and their comrades hiding in the woods. To emphasize my point, I conjured a ball of fire and let it sail towards the clump pf trees.

The resulting explosion frightened the horses, giving me ample time to approach the first brigand and pull him violently off his mount. Downed as he was, I sank my sword up to the hilt through his chest.

Yanking the blade out, I had just enough time to swing it against my next opponent, who spurred his horse to a full gallop and thrusted his spear out. He missed, I didn't. The corpse slides out of its saddle and falls to the ground in a heap beside the first bandit I had slain.

A war cry sounds from within the woods, and a large band of marauders converge on us. There must've been thirty or more of them, but whichever the case, Loki was right about us being outnumbered.

The men with me turned tail and fled at the sight of them, leaving only the old man to stand at my side. "Didn't I tell you?" He said with a grim smirk, "Guess you gotta learn it the hard way."

"O ye of little faith." I replied, reminding him of my encounter with the darkspawn in the village of Lothering. If those monsters could not stop me, neither will these ill-trained brigands.

I've fought worse in the cursed lands of Drangleic.

Once again, I lose myself in the heat of contest, everything narrowing in the perception of my mind. There was the hard pounding of feet beating against the earth, of which my ears barely registered. There was the ringing left from the clash of steel against steel, of which rattled in the far reaches of my skull.

Then the blood, a whole fountain of it, washes all over me.

Of anything else, that was the only thing I was yet aware of. Warm life leaving their ruptured veins, adorning my armor and skin before dripping back into the trodden earth below.

Once the ruthless pounding in my head leaves my body, everything gradually clears, and the red mist leaves my mind. I look upon my work and feel satisfaction come upon my tainted soul.

And I didn't even need to use magic.

I let out a chuckle and turn to Loki, who joined the skirmish and now bore the wounds of the conflict. He shrugged as a response, wincing as the pain from a large gash in his arm grips him.

"Not too shabby." He comments weakly.

I nodded and proceeded to tear out the shafts buried in my left thigh and shoulder. I wasn't immune to wounds, though they weren't enough to kill me. It takes a lot to kill an undead.

I could feel curiousity coming from the eyes of the old man. Obviously, something as impossible as taking on a whole company's worth of men was something that begged a lot of questions.

But Loki did me the gracious deed of holding his inquisitive tongue, of which I was silently grateful for.

There was another tangible change in me. Souls from these uncorrupted mortals had restored me, enough to mend the many tears lining my body. It doesn't take away the curse, but at least the rotting stench and unsavory appearance has left until my next death.

I helped Loki walk back to the caravan down the road, intent on finishing this portion of the journey before night takes over day.

* * *

I had that dream again.

The hill of bones…

The cracked and bleeding earth, the burning sky of green fire.

And then, the Black City itself…

Lighting forks stab the sky, heralding the deafening claps of thunder. The air was filled with an unholy mantra, chanted by a thousand painwracked and tormented souls that spread across the realm farther than the reaches of one's eye.

Rifts opened, tearing apart the fabric of reality and ushering in more fodder for this abominable ritual.

The masses formed a circle around a lone figure tethered to a network of rune-covered chains. I did not recognize who he was, but from the looks of his golden armor and handsome albeit beaten and bloodied features, he was someone of great import.

Orchestrating the foul act were seven tall and darkly majestic archmages, their being matching what I could imagine was the Seven Magisters of Loki's tale.

But they were not alone.

Aside from the darkspawn horde clamoring impatiently for the culmination of the dark ritual, an army of stoic, disciplined warriors stood at attention. They wore armor as black as night, finely etched in a network of skulls and twisted visages of suffering, as if to show those who would look upon them that they served the gods of chaos and death.

Familiarity dawns on me. These were not men, nor darkspawn.

These were undead, like me.

The ground quakes as the mantra grows louder, drowning out the din of the skies with its profane cacophany.

I could feel the hairs on my body stand on end as the culmination arrives.

The cracked earth splits in two, a means of entry for something powerful, malevolent, and truly evil. A hand, big enough to blot out the sun, reaches out of the chasm and forms a fist.

A triumphant laugh forces the stars to hide themselves in fear, and the darkspawn let out a roar to greet their dark master.

The man in golden armor glares in defiance as the hand reaches down to pluck him from the earth, chains and all.

Two eyes of eternal hellfire burn through the black mist, barely obscuring the malevolent being behind it all. It was enough to unnerve even the most hardened of warriors to look upon those eyes.

The man screams in pain as the hand squeezes the life out of him, finally erupting in a ball of light and crumbling into ashes.

* * *

I open my eyes as the dream ends, squinting slightly when the moonlight shines down on my face through the narrow slits of my helmet.

I realized I had fallen asleep sitting next to the campfire.

The refugees had pitched camp for the night, most opting to sleep upon the grass and sacrificing the comfort of the tents for the young ones. Others remained awake, choosing to watch for any sign of danger to the caravan. With the events of the day fresh on their minds, it didn't come as a surprise.

The dream had its reason for harassing my consciousness, and I intended to find out what for.

I rose from my spot in the fireplace and started down the road without so much as a farewell to the peasants.

I figured I didn't owe them one. I was still a stranger in this land, and I was fine with it.

"Leaving so soon?"

Well, just me. "Our paths do not intertwine, Loki. I must find my own way in this land."

"Well." The old man pushes himself away from the tree he was leaning on, "Can't say that I'll shed a tear for when you ride off into the darkness."

"I'd rather you didn't." I addressed the awkwardness of that picture. "And if there's nothing else, I'll take my leave now." I turn to continue down the path.

"Wait." Loki stops me, reaching into the back of the sash around his middle. "Take this." He handed me a small bag of coins and a roll of paper, "It's easy to get lost out there, might wanna carry a map at all times."

I look up at him in surprise and take the gifts, "You are too generous."

"I'm an old man with only a handful of years left in my ailing body." He said with a shrug, "What use have I for money? You showed me a twice that there was more to cowering from those who think they are my betters. The least I can do is give you these in return."

Loki pats me on the shoulder, "Take care of yourself, boy. Maker be gracious, we will meet again someday, far from this nasty business."

I nodded and walked away, feeling my steps become lighter now that the old man helped me tie up that loose end.

But Loki was wrong about that last part. He probably won't see me again someday. And it certainly won't be far from any nasty business.

If the nightmares were close to the truth, then this world wasn't far from hurtling itself into a ominous end.

If so, why am I even trying to stop it?

 **}!{**

 **I'm so glad you guys liked it, gonna keep on going and see where this goes.**

 **Hopefully somewhere where we all can enjoy it :)**


	3. Dead Again

**}!{**

"Now…where the fuck am I?"

I scrutinized the whole map, frustrated that it didn't show any local areas, but instead the main roads lining the incredibly large land of Ferelden. Even with this tool, I still managed to get myself lost.

Tragic.

Sighing in frustration, I rolled up the piece of paper and pressed onwards, minding the sharp rocks sticking out of the largely unused road I was treading on as I headed towards what the map indicated as the Brecilian Passage.

It's a wonder I could understand the language spoken here, and curiously enough, could read the words inscribed as well.

The trek through the wilderness would take days, maybe weeks if I became careless with my direction. Not a single soul out here to ask for correction, and this fact made me curse myself for ever deciding on splitting from the caravan.

I've wandered around all my life, and had gotten quite good at it. But it would've been easier had I just stuck to the refugees and had just booted from there once we reached the port city of Gwaren.

Grumbling quietly at my poor decision, I chose to stick with what I had and just went with it. If I didn't have anything else to lead me, I'll have my dreams as a guide. For all I know, that might be the only thing that makes all of this worth living through.

If there was a reason at all for me to fall into this plane of existence, what better alternative is there than to fumble around for my purpose?

I didn't have anything better to do anyway.

Eventually, as I covered miles of patient and equally backbreaking walking, I started to whistle to keep my bored mind from wandering too far.

That attempt was all for naught, however, for as I emerged from the woods, I chanced upon a lush valley full of blossoming sunflowers.

The sight was enough to take my breath away.

Removing my gauntlet, I passed through the field with my bare hand drawn to caress the beautiful flora, marveling at their softness and basking in the life that flowed freely in this land.

"By the gods…" I breathed as the sun shone freely upon me, "I will never get used to this…"

I took another moment, reluctant to leave the valley for some reason, and then pressed onwards. Feelings of nostalgia were healthy for cursed ones like me, it keeps my sanity anchored firmly. There aren't a lot of flowers where I came from, for the land convulses in the throes of death just as much as those who live upon it.

Perhaps that was why I was sad to leave such a beautiful spot. Because deep down, my soul yearns for the many things that I had lost.A home, a family, a purpose…

I sighed and put aside the somber thoughts, preferring the mirth of an idle mind than one that mopes. That's not going to get me anywhere.

The breathtaking valley disappears behind a mountain range as I trekked onwards, my view replaced by tall trees and moss covered ruins similar to the shaded woods where the phantoms roamed back in Drangleic.

A sudden rustle in the dense underbush brings my hand up to my blade's hilt.

Much to my embarassment and relief, a little hare leaps out of its hiding place. The little creature was preferable as opposed to an ambush, and I relaxed a bit while watching the animal stare at me curiously before moving on to its hunt for food.

Gradually, the weather started to get cold as I gained the mountains. The skies opened to deliver a shower of snow that covered the path I treaded upon, making it difficult for my boots to get a good grip as I marched on.

I slipped and fell on my face.

A lot.

That's purgatory for knights like me, especially when you get snow in between your face and helm and have great difficulty getting it off.

Once I had reached the top of the mountain, I unrolled the piece of paper and looked at the map again. My brows bunch together as I realized I was getting nowhere, frustration building up again in my chest.

A faint whistle splits the quiet howl of the winter wind, and I grunt as an axe digs into my chest. The blow knocks me off my feet, and I land flat on my back.

Growling in annoyance, I look and see a group of darkspawn sprinting through the snow-covered pass beyond where I stood, with weapons raised high as they rushed upon me.

Quickly, summon a bolt of lighting and cast it in the middle of the formation, knocking aside those fortunate enough and burning those that were not. My sword is out of its sheath, and I yank out the throwing axe, turning it into my secondary weapon.

One downwards swing of the axe, and I bring that crooked and ill-fashioned piece of metal through a hurlock's thick skull, never to be plucked out again.

Another practically runs into my sword. I'm hardly even trying with these fools. At least they get to act as practice dummies, I could tell that some of my skills were getting rusty.

Suddenly, the ground shakes as a new contender enters the frey. Towering above its lesser peons, a giant hefts a nasty looking mace and roars forth its challenge. This was a hurlock alpha, from the way it carried itself and how the others stepped aside when he glared at them through the narrow slits of his bloody helm.

A worthy opponent? Only one way to find out.

I wrapped my fingers securely around my sword handle and stood my ground, waiting for the beast to begin his charge. Like a cavalry on its warpath, the giant swings its mace and half-lumbers, half-stomps its way towards me.

His movements were sluggish, to say the least, giving me ample time to anticipate where he would strike and just about step out of the way. The massive clump of iron shatters the earth beneath me, but I ignore the threat and quickly determine where to stick my blade into. With a mass of rippling muscle and bits of metal for a body, it wasn't easy, but I found the places where the blood vessels ran through.

Warm crimson ichor adorns my armor as the blade tears flesh, eliciting a pained roar from the alpha as he staggered back to regain his equanimity.

Then, I feel a stinging bite in my left calf, forcing me to bend down and feel for the shaft in my leg and yank it out. Another bolt hits me in the back, with regards froma hurlock sniper. I should've guessed monsters here don't play fair either…

Staggering back up to my feet, I saw the mace raised high and braced myself for the blow.

The wind gets knocked out of my lungs as the weapon slams into me, so strong was the giant's swing that it threw me a good thirteen feet away from the battlefield, coming to a stop only when I hit the surface of a weathered statue.

Ribs crushed, lungs perfortrated, I spat out the blood and regained my stance, only to be knocked down again.

And again.

And again…

In moments like these, I find the serenity that forever eludes me in life. Perhaps that's the small comfort in being undead.

You get to die, over and over and over again. And soon, it all fades away…

But not today.

Surmounting the agonizing weight in my bruised and broken body, I channelled all my anger into the soul furnace, fanning the flames of my soul into white heat and sending the darkspawn reeling back.

The alpha stood its ground, cracked lips drawn apart in a ghastly grin of excitement. It roars, preparing to charge again as the soul furnace dissapates.

But that was as far as it would ever go.

An arrow whistles through the air and pierces through its narrow slit, ending the giant's rampage and sending its corpse toppling to the snow-encrusted earth. The darkspawn hurlocks take a step back as a motley group of warriors join the battle.

The world around me was getting dark, unsurprising given the extent of my injuries. But I had just enough time to get a glimpse of the archer who saved me.

It was a woman, with hair bright as the autumn leaves and eyes of greyish-green that could pierce even the hardiest of souls. There weren't a lot of women in Drangleic, much less those untouched by the Darksign.

She was truly something to behold, with a face unmarred by the horrors of this world.

I can only hope she remains that way, for beauty was a precious largesse, so easily lost…

She catches me as I fall to my knees, within a hair's breadth away from succumbing to death's embrace. There was nothing she, or anyone, could do to stop it. I had lost too much blood.

"Aedan! Wynne! Come quickly!" The archer calls for her friends, setting me down gently on the ground as they came running.

My hand shakes as I grab her by the forearm. I gasp, I shudder, but no words would come from my flooded throat.

She looks on sorrowfully and rests her hand on my battered chest, "Maker guide your soul into his embrace, noble warrior."

The darkness takes me once more...

 **}!{**

 **With a game like Dark Souls, there's going to be a lot of that happening in Dragonage.**

 **Thanks for reading, please leave a review, thank you :)**


	4. The Sacred Ashes Part One

**Okay, time for the A/N**

 **Just a reminder, I tend to deviate from canon when it's essential to the plot. Some examples are like; fewer bonfires ( I'm doing away with those since DS uses them as a medium for save points) and among other things like my OC is a lot more vulnerable than you're used to.**

 **Now that we got that out of the way, please enjoy the following chapter :)**

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The darkness lifts…

Something brushes against my cheek, coarse and wet…

I sit up with a groan, hand fumbling over my chest to check if my armor was still there. Can't be too careful, some people have a nasty habit of looting the dead. Proof of such, I was stripped down to my loincloth and my sword was nowhere to be found. I quickly recollect the pieces of my memory prior to my death.

I look up and stare directly into the face of the biggest wolf I had the pleasure of seeing in my long life as an undead. There's a peculiar effect with unnaturals like me, we don't elicit hostilities with animals, but instead invoke curiousity like this one.

The wolf pads back and takes another hesitant sniff at me.

I remember…a battle…

I was fighting the darkspawn…the wounds of the fight killed me…

A band of adventurers….the archer with the auburn hair…

I scan the remains of that skirmish, picking up a heavy waraxe as a temporary replacement. I had to find those thieving interlopers, specifically my sword. The armor is expendable, but that blade has been with me since the day I swore an oath as a knight of Heide, and it will remain with me in death and beyond.

Determined now and with a clear purpose, no matter how simple, I followed the trail of corpses that lead into the ruins. Also, I had this peculiar feeling, one that I've only started to keenly feel the closer I got to the ruins.

Akin to a moth drawn to the flame.

Predictably, the wolf follows me. I shoo him away with a nudge of my foot, and he tilts his head at me quizzically.

One of the things that was so noticeable about him was his posture. He kept his tail tucked, his shoulders hunched and his head lowered as he moved about with uncertainty.

He was an omega, an outcast of the pack, and a particularly big one at that. There was more to wolf society than size and strength, such was the case with this one. He wanted to come with me, for reasons I had yet to find out.

I didn't glare at him, for that would be an act of cruelty, a thing that I save solely for my enemies. So, with great reluctance, I permitted the animal to trot beside me and into the open doors of the temple ruins.

Along the way, I found that a rich amount of souls still remained within the bodies, so I engorged myself to restore my humanity. Gradually, the color returned to my otherwise pale skin.

Staring into a broken mirror nearby, I found I looked less like a ghoul and more human now, a welcome change given the circumstances.

The band of adventurers have come through here, judging from the amount of bodies left in their wake. Slash marks on the fallen suggest they have a warrior on point, arrow shafts for the supporting archer, and…scorch marks?

They must have a mage as well. If so, that could prove difficult if I handle this in a violent manner.

"You know nothing! Andraste revealed herself to us!" A voice shouts further down the temple's hallways. It was coming from the cave in which the entire building extends to.

"We are her chosen!"

My pace quickens as the song of steel reverbrates through the air, signalling the beginning of another fight. Scrambling over broken cobblestones and rocks, I finally reached the source of the noise.

The leader of the band wielded my sword, and seemed to enjoy its benefits. Geisteel was hard to make, even atypical than most metals. For geisteel is harvested from the rare occasion that a star falls upon the earth, even then only the best craftsman could fashion a blade out of the near-indestructible metal.

Geisteel is light, but can strike harder than tempered steel. Anyone who comes across such a weapon cannot resist looting it, such was the case with this warrior.

He wore my armor as well, all of it, save for the faded insignia of Heide- which was now replaced by black and gold gryphon.

The band was currently engaging the denizens of this temple, more cultist than priests of a holy order.

Typical.

No true reverence for dragons, of which they worship judging from the statues erected in their honor, only blind zeal. The band was vastly outnumbered, but I wasn't there to lend a hand. I'm heading into the frey to do one thing- gain their attention.

And of course, get my armor and sword back.

I look down at the wolf, and he looks up at me. "Don't get in my way."

Surprise was my advantage, the cultist closest to me was left confused as the axe cleaves through his studded leather armor and buries itself through his shoulder. With a savage pull, I tear him in half and move on to my next target.

This one carried a shield, which annoyed me since he stayed upright with it in the way. It was there that the wolf proved himself useful, jumping and tackling the man to the ground before having at his throat with his teeth.

I must've looked a sight fighting in my underclothes, because the band of adventurers stopped fighting the cultists to gawk at me.

I ignored them, drawing power from the souls reaved from the dead and used the sudden spike of magicka to summon a small cloud. From that floating mass of vapor, a storm brewed, striking the cultists with a series of forked lightning shafts.

The wolf yelps and cowers behind my legs, frightened out of his wits at the deafening claps of thunder that came with the spell.

Snapping out of it, the band resumes the fight, joining me in eradicating the denizens of the ruins. Once the last of them fell, and the final soul consumed to add to the swirling masses within me, I turned my attention to the man who stole from me.

With a firm gaze affixed on his glowing blue eyes, I stretched a threatening finger, referring to the armor that now adorned his body and the sword within his sheath.

He looks at me in confusion, "What?"

I say three words, "Armor. Sword. Mine…"

The other man that stood with him, one with chestnut hair and with a cheery disposition, chuckled at the exchange. "I told you at one point, Aedan, looting's considered robbery."

"What are you talking about?" Aedan asks.

The auburn-haired archer places her bow at her back, "Don't you recognize him? He's the Templar who fought the darkspawn outside two days ago!"

Two days? That explains the extent of the rot in my body. A good thing the Darksign's demand for souls wasn't that high, otherwise I would've gone Hollow by now. "I won't ask again." I narrowed my gaze. "Give it here, now."

"Apologies." Aedan throws down the knapsack he was carrying and moves to take off the stolen goods, changing into a suit of hardened leather before handing it all back to me. "We thought you were dead, serrah."

"Clearly, I'm not." I glared at him before putting my armor back on.

The nature of a cursed one is complicated. Some can say I'm dead, some can say I'm teetering over the edge of such. But in my opinion, as long as I keep the Darksign satisfied with a steady supply of souls, I remain anchored in this world.

But still, yes, I am dead.

The wolf whines, looking up at me expectantly. It would seem he was pleased with the fact that he made himself useful, and I knew it would be a crime not to commend him for it, so I brushed a hand lightly across the fur valley in between his two ears. "I'd prefer a dog, but I think you and I will get along just fine."

Having accomplished my goal, I decided there would be no further need for me to linger, and so turned heel and started walking in the direction from which I came. Then, I changed my mind, opting to follow the strange feeling that drew me here in the first place.

The moth and the flame. My heading changes, now for deeper into ruined temple.

The band of adventureres exchange looks, then start to walk in the same direction. I had no problem with them doing so, for treasure-seekers like them are only here for one thing- the objects of a tangible nature.

Gold and silver mean nothing to the dead, for the pass away like grains of sand between your fingers, I'm here for something more permanent. If an ancient power stirs within this temple, and it compels me- then I must have it.

Souls aren't the only things that make an undead powerful after all.

* * *

"Aedan, the group is exhausted." I hear the archer speak after we had gone on the journey through the temple's seemingly unending maze. "Shall we make camp and rest a while?"

The leader takes a look around first, gauging the security of the chamber we were in. "Let's fix up some supper while we're at it."

"Invite our new friend over there." I hear the older mage woman suggest.

The chestnaut-haired knight protested the notion, "I wouldn't exactly call him friend, he hardly fits the description. Besides, we just met him, and not in the best of introductions- I might add!"

He had a point, and I didn't care for the company of them. In fact, their endless banter throughout the long walk was getting rather annoying.

The mage gently chides him like a mother would, "Alistair, be nice. In times as bleak as these, show a stranger kindness, for it may be the only sunshine he will ever see."

"Words of wisdom, well received." Aedan says with nod, "Come stranger, sit with us while I prepare us a meal."

"Still can't believe a prince like you can cook." Alistair mumbles jokingly.

Aedan gathers some dried sticks and forms a circle in which he would ignite the campfire. "I learned a thing or two while wandering through the kitchens."

The flint in his hand gives a spark once struck, but still no fire. He tries again, with several more attempts before turning to me in desperation. "Er…do you mind?"

"Not at all." With a snap of my finger, I set it alight.

"Thank you." Aedan says, setting a large piece of venison to roast. "I must say, it's good we've met a mage out here who isn't keen on setting us on fire."

"Morrigan would set you on fire." Alistair pipes up.

"At the moment of provocation, of which you are responsible for." Aedan pointed out, "But that's alright, I find your bickering quite adorable."

"Well, I don't."

I drew myself away as the focus was diverted to this 'Morrigan' character, earning myself the attention of another.

"Welcome to the party, stranger." The archer greeted warmly. "I'm Leliana." Her presence attracted the omega, and padded closer to the woman, begging for her attentions. "Oh! And who might you be?" She ruffles through his thick fur, giggling as he rubs his head on her lap in return.

"An outcast of the pack." I said, grateful that I didn't have to introduce myself. Having no name other than the ones I make up was getting pretty embarassing. "Started following me once I pulled myself out of that mass grave you left outside."

"How did you survive?" Leliana asked the ever-so popular question, "With wounds that pierced so deep, we really thought you were dead."

I shrugged, offering no solid answers. "It's complicated."

She drops the subject then, "Well, whatever the case, I'm glad it all worked out."

"Alright then, my turn." I started, "To your purpose being in this place; what does a warrior, a knight, a mage and an archer have in common?"

Leliana stares at me in confusion, then slowly realizes what I'm talking about. "Oh? We're here on behalf of the Arl, have you not heard of his affliction?"

Sounding a bit haughty than I intended, I returned, "Should I have? I'm a stranger to this land, I wouldn't know."

"The Arl has been poisoned with blood magic." Leliana explained, "Acquiring a pinch of Andraste's ashes is the only way to save him. To gain allies to fight the darkspawn threat, we need him."

"A noble task." I commented, "If it's all about ashes, that's not what I'm here for."

I laid down on the cold stone floor and closed my eyes, edging away when I felt the wolf crawl down to lie next to me. The purpose of the act was so I could get a glimpse into that dream again.

I needed a clear picture to know what exactly it was that I was here for. Frankly, it's getting very frustrating not being able to see it.

It's almost like some jester god was tugging at my strings, reveling in the confusion I was showing.

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	5. The Sacred Ashes Part Two

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I see it again…

The Black City, with its thick walls and towering spires wet with crimson ichor, high above the hill of skulls, the bleeding sky in its lofty heights.

The scene shimmers, fades away, like a hand reaches down into the spring and muddies the water. I see the hordes of the darkspawn and the armies of the undead marching down the cracked and scorched earth, shaking the ground beneath their heels as they rallied around their master.

A dragon, and yet I could see there was more to that meets the eye. It was a powerful soul indeed, not unlike the Old Ones that festered the lands of Drangleic, but so much more.

Much much more.

Its wings, if spread outwards, could cover the entire Black City. When it reared its head, its scream was like a thousand tormented souls crying out all at once. I could feel a strange corruption emanating from the beast, similar to the Darksign, but seeps deeper and grips tighter than anything I've ever felt.

It calls to me…

* * *

I wake with a start, a common reaction now that everytime I sleep I am consumed by the nightmares.

"Maker's breath!" Alistair cried out, sitting up with a jolt. It would seem I wasn't the only one plagued with those visions. "Did I just see that? The Black City?"

"You saw it too?" Aedan asked breathlessly. Apparently, my dreams are the party sees me awake and just as disturbed as them, the attention shifts in my direction. "You, my friend? You had the dream as well?" Aedan inquires of me.

I nodded.

"Only those that drink of the darkspawn blood can have those visions." Alistair says in a voice tinged with suspicion.

"You cannot blame him for not knowing." Aedan returns, coming to my defense. "Perhaps it was the blood of the darkspawn washing over his wounds when he fought against them in the ruins outskirts."

I gave no answer, avoiding the revelation of the truth as much as I could. I had no idea how they'd react around an undead. I'd have a slightly better reception with Old Man Loki. If they should strike out, I'd hesitate, knowing these were good people. I let them think on until the subject changes, focusing instead on the center of all these dreams.

"What do you think it means?" Alistair asked, "I felt it! The Archdemon saw us!"

Out of curiousity, I joined in. "Archdemon? What is that, if you don't mind me asking?"

"The source of the Blight, reason behind the darkspawn laying waste to Ferelden." Alistair answered, "Ring any bells? Oh, from the look you're giving me I think I'm in for another history lesson."

I frowned at the younger man's sardonic remarks, rising from the stone floor and gathering my few belongings so that I could march on ahead.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Aedan called.

"Getting a headstart while your copperhaired friend whines about his nightmares!" I retorted, whistling for the wolf to heel. He comes obediently, trotting beside me as I treaded through the dark hallways of the temple.

There was much ground to cover, and I intended to get to the source of power first. "Come! Your Sacred Ashes awaits!" There, the party scrambles to break camp, following me deeper into the temple's recesses.

"You know, I can't help but notice something happening to the bodies of the cultists you killed along the way." Leliana, ever the curious one, said to me. "It's like, you take something from them."

She must've noticed the way I involuntarily absorb the essences of the dead. If that's how easy they can pick up on things, there will be no use hiding the truth of my nature after all.

But still…she will get no answers from my end.

Taking my silence personally, Leliana answers with a little bit of her own, and an uncomfortable quiet settles in within the group.

The corridor stretches on, seemingly without end, until we came upon a well-lit antechamber. A man stood at the door, waiting for us.

"I bid you welcome, pilgrims." He greeted us solemnly.

Aedan takes a deep breath before coming forward, "We've come for the Sacred Ashes."

"You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourselves worthy." The guardian answers, "Yet it is not my place to judge, for that is what the Gauntlet's for. If you are found worthy, you may see the Urn and be permitted to take a pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not…"

I flexed my fingers and breathed in the icy air. Things were about to get interesting.

"Let's get this over with." Aedan says.

"Before you go, there is something I must ask." The guardian takes pause, "I see that the path that has led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past-your suffering, and the suffering of others."

"You abandoned your father and mother, leaving them in the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy." He said, revealing a hint of the past of the knight standing at my side. "Do you think you failed your parents?"

Aedan was quiet for a while, but answered with little hesitation. "Yes, I should have defended them to the death. Such is the duty of a son to his family."

"Thank you." The guardian bowed, "That is all I wish to know."

"Admirable." I commented simply, seeing as how I knew little of the boy's story to truly judge him for his actions.

"You could not have known." Leliana comforted him, "You did what you thought was best."

"And what of those that follow you?" The guardian turns to the rest of the party, "Alistair, knight and Warden…you wonder if things would have been different if you were with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him from the killing blow. You wonder, don't you, if you should've died, and not him?"

"I…yes." Alistair hung his head in shame, "If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would be better. If I'd just the chance, maybe…"

"Ask your question, guardian." Wynne declared, "I am ready."

"You are ever the advisor." The guardian lays it all bare, "Ready with a word of wisdom. Do you wonder if you only spout platitudes, burned in your mind from a distant past? Perhaps you are only a tool used to spread the word of the Circle and the Chantry. Does doubt ever chip away at your truths?"

The elder mage ponders on this for a moment, then smiled, wisdom as a testament of her years sparkling in her kind gray eyes. "You frame the statement in the form of a question, yet you already know our answers. There is no sense in hiding, is there? Yes, I do doubt at times. Only the fool is completely certain of himself."

"And you." The guardian spoke to Leliana, "Why do you say that the Maker speaks to you, when all know that the Maker has left? He has spoken only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself her equal?"

"I never said that!" The archer protested, "I-

"In Orlais, you were _someone._ In Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself, become a drab sister and disappear. When your brothers and sisters in the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also reveled in it. It made you special, and you enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative."

But Leliana refused to acknowledge the guardian's words, "You're saying that I made if up for…the attention?! I did not! I know what I believe!"

Satisfied with the others, he turned to me.

"And you, Langerd, Knight of Heide…"

I frowned, surprised to hear of the name that was lost for so long. "What…what did you call me?"

"When the seas drank in your land, you lost everything…Your wife, your son, your own humanity. Your soul has been touched by the curse of undeath, a burden that has been with you for centuries…"

The guardian knows of me, of my past. This encounter may prove useful after all, but that means the cat's out of the bag. They shall know of the Darksign, then so be it.

"With each death, a piece of your being was lost, and you teetered at the brink of hopelessness. Now that you walk upon the world of Thedas, do you fear the false hope, the path in which the Maker has set for you?"

I look into the widened eyes of the party around me, and I notice Alistair's hand on his sword, even Wynne had her staff ready to cast a spell. Apparently, the reaction's a bit worse than I imagined. "Yes guardian. I lost everything, but what is lost is never easily regained." Then, to address the matter with my companions, "Do not judge too quickly. I am undead, not darkspawn."

"Yes, guardian." I turned back to my accuser, "I remain confused. Is it an accident that I am here? Fate rarely makes mistakes, but I am sure I will find our soon enough. That is what we all aspire, don't we? To forever fumble around in darkness for our purpose?"

"Then I pray your words bear meaning, Sir Langerd." The guardian said, accepting my answer, "The way is open. Good luck, and may you find what you seek."After saying these words, the guardian of the Ashes vanishes in a flash of light, leaving us alone in that empty antechamber.

"So…" I muttered, somewhat pleased to have a bit of my past restored. "Langerd. That's my name…"

"I heard him right, didn't I?" Aedan asked, "You're undead?"

I nodded with a resigned sigh, "Forgive the deception. I was ashamed, and unsure of how you would see it."

"This changes everything." Aedan said, slowly becoming hostile. "Only demons can make puppets of the dead."

"Agreed, but how do we even know for sure? Demons can manifest themselves in many forms, most of which have not been witnessed by anyone in Thedas." Blue magicks emanate from the healer's hand, "Helpful or not, I say it is wise to deal with this abomination here and now. Better safe than sorry..."

Normally, I would've gone for my weapon and defended myself, and yet I didn't. "Take your best shot then, wise one." I offered willingly, stretching my hands out in invitation. "I'll just come back anyway. And if you do manage to kill me permanently, you'd be doing me a favor. I do not know why I was sent into this world, but if your god takes any interest in the affairs of this realm, I'd say he's brought me here for a reason. I leave the choice to you."

"Well, there's one sure way we can coax a demon out of there." Alistair steps forward, "And since you offered a free shot..."

The knight throws a beam of holy light, which stung sharper than a basilisk's gaze, and makes me stagger back. "Ouch! What the hell?!"

There were confused looks exchanged, "Hm, what do you know? I guess there's no demon in there after all!"

Rubbing my chest, I glared at Alistair. "The fuck did you do to me?"

"Just making sure we won't have an abomination walking alongside us." He explained, "Now then, Aedan, what shall we do with him now that we've gotten our answer?"

All eyes turn to the Warden. "Well, I don't see an enemy in you, Sir Langerd."

I shrugged, "Then, what do you see?"

"A victim, like so many of us here." He answers, putting his sword back in his sheath. "You've done much, enough to earn goodwill for us to excuse the deception. But know that we're keeping a close eye on you. Undead or no, we've killed worse creatures than you."

"You're too kind." I said, voice tinged with sarcasm.

The Warden nods, leading us forward and into the Gauntlet in which we would undergo the test to gain the Ashes of which they sought after.

In a wide and spacious chamber, there stood a number of shimmering apparitions. Each of them, I could feel, had a significant impact in history. It was close to the feeling I got whenever I consume a soul, but it was more akin to a fading light, flickering and dying but still just barely visible in the darkness.

" _Echoes from a shadow realm, whispers of things yet to come. Thought's strange sister dwells in night, is swept away in dawning light."_ The first, a woman dressed in a villager's garb, spoke of a riddle. _"Of what do I speak?"_

The party looks on in silence, each contemplating on the meaning of the cryptic sentence, and each having a hard time getting to the answer.

"Dreams." I spoke up, thoughts at random. "You speak of dreams."

" _A dream came to me as my daughter slumbered beneath my heart." The ghost nodded,"It told of her life, and of her betrayal and death. I am sorrow and regret, I am a mother who weeps for a daughter she could not save."_

The ghost vanishes, leaving me to quietly think on the fate of my long-dead family. I had died so many times, I had slowly forgotten that life. It was like the waves of the sea slowly erroding the soil of the beach it strikes upon, and so it was with my memories.

I too am sorrow and regret. I weep for the wife I can never hold again, and the son I cannot save.

"I can't even remember their faces anymore." I chuckled morbidly.

"What are you talking about?" Leliana asks.

I squirm inside my armor, "Never mind, let's just move on with these trials."

"I agree." Aedan interjects, "It seems like we're going through Andraste's life, bit by bit. Let's see what the others have to say."

The next one was a young woman, around the age of eighteen. _"The smallest lark could carry it, while a strong man might not. Of what do I speak?"_

The span of where the answer lies is wide, but I might have something. Out of the blue, I thought of the singing birds upon the trees beyond this mountain, and how beautiful the tune was. It's one of the few things that warms my dead heart.

Wait, that's it! "A tune."

" _Yes, I was Andraste's dearest friend in childhood. And always we would sing. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard her will be filled with joy. They say the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste's song, and then she sang no more of simple things."_

Another apparition fades.

"Songs…" I breathed, closing my eyes to recall the few memories residing in my ruined vessel of a mind. None of them bore any song, save for the clash of steel and the cries of dying men. "I wish I knew a different kind…"

Soon, the Warden and his friends caught on to the pattern of the game, and moved on without me, figuring out the riddles in due time and opening the door for the next part of the Gauntlet's tests. I just stood in the center of the room, listening for tidbits of this Andraste's history, comparing it with my own, and somehow putting together some semblance of the whole of my being.

It was a pleasant feeling, of sealing up the cracks of my cursed soul. No doubt it will be shattered again, but at least I have this moment all to myself.

There was one last apparition that remained in the way, but this one looked less of a ghost and more a whole flesh and blood man. From the way Aedan's eyes widened in recognition, it was someone from his past that he was close to.

"My son…"

Oh. That's heavy.

"Father?" Aedan visibly chokes back the tears.

"You know that I am gone, and no amount of prayers and wishes will bring me back. But no more must you grieve, my boy. Take the pain and guilt, acknowledge it and let it go. It is time." The man smiles, "You have such a long and hard road ahead of you, and you must be prepared. And so I must leave this with you…"

He hands Aedan something, "I know you will do great things with it." Then, like the others, he vanishes.

"Are you alright?" I asked in return.

The Warden pockets the amulet, "Yes. I appreciate you asking. Come on, I think we're just about done with the trials."

The next phase of the Gauntlet proved tricky, since the entirety of it was largely a chasm with a curious magical apparatus to allow passage. Fortunately, I had a trick up my sleeve to traverse the chasm.

Channeling the power of the souls swirling within me, I commanded the stone slabs to rise and form a path in midair, allowing safe passage onto the other side.

I was useful to the party, but I didn't need anyone to say so. I know my own worth.

The final stage of the Gauntlet, thankfully, was less convoluted than the others. On a dusty stone slab was written an inscription,

' _Cast off the trappings of life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King or slave, lord or beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight.'_

Beyond that was a line of fire that separated the other half of the room from the dais that held the Sacred Ashes. I could see from there where the urn stood, and I wondered what it would take to traverse through the trial unscathed.

"I could make you invulnerable to the flames, Aedan." I offered as he took off his armor and stripped to his underclothes.

"No. This part requires a certain depth of reverence." The Warden refused my offer, "I will walk through the flames without armor, and without magic to protect me."

"Your funeral." I shrugged, standing back and expecting the younger man to burst into flames the moment he steps through the fire.

Contrary to my expectations, he passed through unscathed!

As he did so, the flames dissapated, and the Guardian of the temple reappeared to congratulate us for completing the Gauntlet. "You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet; you have walked the path of Andraste, and like Her, you have been cleansed. You have proven yourselves worthy, pilgrims." He extends his hand invitingly, "Go, approach the Sacred Ashes."

Aedan does what he came for, and climbs the steps of the pedestal, drawing nearer to the urn. With great care, the Warden lifts the lid and takes a pinch of the ashes that lay within and places it tenderly within the confines of a small pouch he carried with him.

"I didn't think anyone could succeed in finding Andraste's final resting place…" Alistair breathed, "But here…here she is."

"Shall we move on, now that you've obtained what you seek?" I said, eager to find the source of power that was drawing me here.

"I guess that leaves the dragon to deal with." Aedan sighs, tucking the pouch in his bag after redressing.

My brow arches at the statement, "There are dragons in this world too?"

"Apparently so." The Warden answers, walking me out of the room with the rest of the party. "Most people thought they've gone extinct. But then again, they said the same about the darkspawn."

"Truth easily becomes myth as time marches on." I said.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Aedan agreed. Once we were outside, the Warden approached an ancient-looking gong, at the top of a hill covered in purple dust. He took a cautious look around before ringing the old thing, stepping back and bracing himself for what was to come after.

A bestial roar echoes across the canyon above, and the sound of flapping wings could be heard. The dragon comes.

"Um, Langerd?" Alistair said, "You should take cover, y'know, like everyone else?" I looked and saw the rest of the party hiding behind a rock wall.

I drew my sword, "Let him come." The dragon comes to view, "I've faced worse."

 **}!{**

 **Whew, this is one of the longest chapters I've written! I hope you like it, my fingers are kinda shaking now ;)**

 **Thank you for your continued support of this fic, please post a review and let me know what you think about it. Also, feel free to suggest and pour in ideas in the comments.**

 **They help a lot :)**


	6. Witnessing History

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The dragon roars, sending a blast of its horrid breath against my face. Sulfur, combined with the stench of a hundred rotting corpses within its belly, was more than anyone could bear. That, and the ear-splitting bellow that came with it.

As I have done so many times facing the wyrms roaming the valleys and peaks of Drangleic, I bravely stood my ground and met the flames that followed. Bradden steel was sturdy enough to withstand even the flames of hell, and my armor was made of the same, how much more can it endure under the fires of a dragon's scorn?

Leliana's arrows, tips laced with a virulent poison, pierced the beast's scaly hide and sent it on a frenzy. With the monster madly thrashing as the poison did its work, I got close enough to plunge my sword into the unarmored valleys below the armpits and wings.

"You will bleed for me!" I roared, rolling out of the way just in time for its massive foot to come down. "And what bleeds may die!" Another slash, and the dragon spills a river of that crimson ichor. The wolf joins in, biting at the beast's heels.

But the monster wasn't robbed of any form of retaliation, and the tail lashes out, throwing me off my feet and sending me flying across the battlefield. I broke a rib or two landing against a pile of rocks.

Raising my eyes, I caught sight of Wynne casting spells to aid the group. She throws a sideward's glance, but didn't make any effort to heal me. The kindness she had shown me in the past was gone…

That's fine. I knew how they'd react to the revelation that their new party member was an undead.

Surmounting the stabbing pain in my sides, I got up and leaped onto the dragon's back. Aedan and Alistair followed me in, taunting the beast towards them. I've learned that monsters of the wyrm family are born with a one-tracked mind, so it was fairly easy to confuse the dragon into which prey to target first.

Climbing to the crown of its head, I hefted my blade high and dug it deep into the dragon's skull. The monster roars in agony, shaking its head violently in an effort to throw me off.

But I hung on tightly, refusing to give up my hold on the great soul burning beneath my feet. "Meet your maker!" I bellowed, driving my blade in deeper.

The dragon groans, flapping its wings in a desperate attempt to take to the skies and throwing a thick cloud of dust that caused the party below to stagger. In the midst of the confusion, the dragon managed to grab onto Leliana as it vaulted off the cliff.

Cursing this unexpected turn of events, I lifted my sword off the monster's head and leaped off to save the archer, bringing down the blade upon the dragon's wrist to force him to loosen his grip.

I only succeed in making him angrier, but eventually, he lets go of Leliana and twists his neck downwards to catch me in his jaws as we fell off the side of the mountain.

I didn't fear the fall, for I knew I would survive it no matter how high. My only worry is if I there's enough left of me after.

Our plummet into the foot of the mountain wasn't as swift as I thought, the breath leaves my lungs as the rush of air from the fall passes through. I gulped in as much as I could, bracing myself for the impending painful landing.

Momentarily, I was stunned upon impact, head hitting against a boulder and my body pinned down by the dragon's massive wing. He was dead, but his corpse left me immobile.

Both legs were shattered, but I still kept my wits about me and avoided unnecessary panic. I was within reach of the dragon, far closer for comfort, but I would have access to the grand soul residing within its lifeless shell.

Ignoring the pain, both in my broken legs and ruined sides, I absorbed the dragon's soul and restored my battered body to better condition. Having done so, I crawled out of the confines of the wyrm's wing and into the cavern in which we had fallen in.

The afternoon sun shone brightly through the mouth above, casting its brilliance to drive home what I had just accomplished.

That was the hardest fight I've had done in years, and if I hadn't run into Aedan and his motley group of adventurers, I wouldn't have a grand soul to add to my collection.

So, taking my blade, which lay next to the dragon's head, I hacked away at the beast's spiked tail. Such was the tradition of dragonslaying, which had been past from the kingdom before Heide, to Heide itself, and to Drangleic.

I would offer the token to the Warden.

"Langerd!" I hear him call out from the mountain pass above after an hour had passed. Another snowstorm was approaching, given with how the wind started to pick up. I knew I'd best hurry, or it would mean badly for the group to tarry. "Do you yet live?"

"Yes, the fall did not kill me!" I yelled back.

I scramble across jagged rocks and frost-covered boulders to meet up with the party, careful not to lose my balance and sustain even more injury.

"Are you hurt?" Aedan asks, showing more concern for my welfare than anyone in the group. Leliana was silent, and Wynne refused to look at me. "By the Maker, how did you survive a fall like that? Y'know, never mind, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

Alistair looks past my shoulder, "Is the dragon dead?"

As an answer, I handed the severed tail to the Warden. He looks as if he ate something sour as he accepted the token, placing it with all the other artifacts in his pack. "Shall we be on our way?" I asked, patting the wolf's head as he trotted towards me.

"Yes. We have Andraste's ashes, our quest is complete. Arl Eamon shall be cured of his illness…"

"You would truly consider bringing him with us, Warden?" Wynne protested.

"After all that's happened, Wynne, you would say such a thing?" Aedan comes to my defense. "He's no demon, possessed or darkspawn. If it weren't for him, it would've been Leliana thrown from the cliffs. Would you wager her odds of survival to be…favorable under those circumstances?"

For once, the wise one had been beaten in her own game. "No, Warden." But she was wise enough to know when to swallow her pride, "Forgive the way I've treated you, Langerd. It was foolish of me to judge a book by its cover, I will not make the same mistake again."

"All is forgiven, wise one." I answered, accepting her apology. "You are not the first, nor will you be the last to treat me as I am. It's just the way things are…"

"Ahem, yes." Alistair, eager to have the awkward air evaporate as soon as possible, motioned for the group to move forward. "Now that we've got that all said and done, I believe we all have an Earl to cure, hmm?"

* * *

The city of Redcliffe…

I had forgotten what cities were like, if absent the roaming giants of the forest, or the undead that prowl its streets.

With this place, it was vibrant, for lack of a better word. The streets were lined with vendor stalls, packed with busy shoppers and adventurers looking for their next bounty. I was awed, I admit, to have witnessed it all again.

"I can't really tell through the helmet, but are you gawking?" Aedan chuckles.

"If only you knew the definition of cities where I come from…" I breathed, "Ah, never mind my ramblings."

We got through the gates, the guards led us in, but took only Aedan and Alistair up to the room where the Earl rested. The rest of us waited for the Warden in the Earl's gallery.

The courtyard was full, as it would seem. So for the next four hours, I spent it all staring at the various portraits of the Earl's family tree. Of the three, I was the most restless. I've acquired a grand soul, thus crossing out the only clear goal I've had in years, and now was left with nothing.

Whether it was habit, or have gone accustomed to it, but the idleness gnaws at me.

"This wait is torture." I muttered.

"No one's asking you to stick around." Leliana answered, "Why don't you head out and meet the rest of our merry band? I'm sure that'll keep you busy for a long while."

"Haha." I grumbled, "Yeah, introductions worked so well in my favor the last time."

"Look, the Earl is yet among the living!" Wynne gasps.

I watched as the nobleman unsteadily descends the staircase down to the gallery, with the Warden and Alistair at his side. "Hm. I guess those ashes do live up to their name."

"There is much to be done." Earl Eamon announced, pacing by the fire. "But I should first thank those who have done so much. Grey Warden, you have not only saved my life but kept my family safe as well."

Aedan bows in acknowledgement.

"I am in your debt. Will you permit me to offer you a reward for your service?"

"I only need your help against the Blight. That will do."

"I understand." The Earl insisted, "But regardless of your motivations, I feel you are worthy of a reward. I would like to honor your efforts, nothing more."

"As you wish." Aedan relented.

"Then, I declare you and those travelling with you as champions of Redcliffe. You will always be a welcome guest in these halls." The Earl clapped, bringing in a squire that bore a finely crafted shield. "And to you Warden, may I present a shield of the same make given to our finest knights."

"You are generous, my lord." Aedan knelt and accepted the shield, "Thank you."

"We should speak of Loghain, my brother." Another nobleman interjected, "There is no telling what he would do once he learns of your recovery."

"Loghain instigates a civil war even though the darkspawn are at our very doorstep." Eamon says grimly, "Long have I known him, he is a sensible man who never desired power."

"I was there when he announced he was taking control of the throne, Eamon." Came the answer, "He is mad with ambition I tell you!"

"Mad indeed. Mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself and destroy my lands."

I wasn't sure I wanted to stick around to hear all this, for the matter didn't seem to concern me at all. But I did it anyway…

"Whatever happened to him, Loghain must be stopped. What's more, we can scarce afford to fight this war to its bitter end."

Aedan speaks up, "But you can unite the nobility of Ferelden against him, can't you?"

"Yes, I could. But not all oppose Loghain, he has some very powerful allies. We have no time to wage a campaign against him. Someone has to surrender if Ferelden is to have any chance at fighting the darkspawn."

"But once everyone learns what he's done?"

Eamon nods, "I will spread word of his treachery, both here and against the king. But it will be a claim made without proof." The Earl turns to stare at the fire, chin upon hand in deep thought. "Those claims will give his allies pause, but we must combine it with a challenge even Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain's daughter, the queen."

"Are you referring to Alistair, brother?" The nobleman asks, "Are you certain?"

"I would not propose such a thing if we had an alternative. But the unthinkable has occurred."

"Sounds like a great idea." Aedan agreed.

"Teagan and I have a claim though marriage, but we would seem like opportunists, no better than Loghain. Alistair's claim is by blood."

"But what about me?" Alistair whined, "Does anyone care what I want?"

"You have a responsibility, Alistair." The Earl declared, "Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him, for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?"

"I…but I…no, my lord."

"I see only one way to proceed. I will call for a Landsmeet, a gathering of all of Ferelden's nobility in the city of Denerim. There, Ferelden can decide who shall rule, one way or another. Then the business of fighting our true foe can begin. What say you to that, my friend?" He turns to the Warden, "I do not wish to proceed without your blessing."

I had to admit, my perspective on these matters has changed. I was witnessing history in the works, a small kingdom shifting with the winds of time, not unlike how Heide prospered from a simple seaside village to a powerful empire.

Of course, it had its own end, but that's beside the point. I was having a good show, and I was enjoying it. Gotta love the little things.

"Whatever must be done, I'm good for it."

 **}!{**


	7. The Pursuer

**}!{**

" _Father!"_

Rare times.

" _Father! Won't you play with me?"_

It's one of those rare times…when I dream of you.

" _Langerd, when will you come? When will you come home to us? To me?"_

Their faces, still shrouded within the mist, I cannot see them. But I know they are there, in the deep recesses of my mind. Rare times, but I can at least hear their voices again, even though all I hear are mournful calls.

Calls, from a family I will never see again.

"Soon, my dearest." I lied, reaching out into the mist, yet grasping nothing. "I will stay a while longer. And when I die, I shall return to your arms, and we shall walk the afterlife together."

That will never happen, of course, for undead never truly die. Quite the predicament, but I can at least appease the ghosts of the past with empty promises.

* * *

"Langerd, are you alright?"

My eyes fluttered open, and I glare in annoyance at the auburn-haired archer. I didn't want the dream to end prematurely, but I can hardly blame the girl for not knowing. "Do you have a good reason for waking me, Leliana?"

"I…I'm sorry. You were talking in your sleep, and when I came to the door, I thought you were awake."

"I am now." I grunted, dragging my feet off the bed and onto the floor. "What is it?"

"Aedan calls for your aid, we're setting out on another quest before the sun rises."

I glanced out the window, seeing nothing but darkness from a dawn that was late in its arrival. "Very well, tell him I'm on my way to the courtyard." Quickly, I throw on my boots and don my armor, nudging the wolf sleeping under my bed with my foot to rouse him from his slumber. After all that, I realized Leliana was still in the room.

My annoyance was slowly turning into frustration, "Something else you need, hm?"

"I just wanted to thank you, for saving my life when we fought that dragon."

I shrugged, "It's only right. You did the same on my part, concerning the darkspawn." Then, rising from the bed and tying up my sword-belt, "Come on, let's get this over with."

I followed Leliana downstairs, where Aedan and his sorceress friend were waiting for me. I knew little about their relationship, nor cared to pry, but Aedan and Morrigan had grown close in the course of time handling the Blight situation.

I was hardly in a position to judge, but I couldn't help but wonder what the Warden saw in the girl. Our introduction to each other was…unsavory, to say the least.

Aedan tried to explain that Morrigan was Morrigan because she lived in the mountains, raised by a witch that never really taught her much about reining in her haughty attitude. It bothered me, sure, but then again it bothers everyone.

Well, except for her lover.

"Ah finally, the rotting corpse rises from his grave. Took you long enough."

Really, how can he even stand being around this girl? "I am here, called upon request by the Warden." I addressed her attitude as I put on my helmet, "Keep in mind, I am not a dog to wait on your beck and call, girl."

She archs her brow, "Oh really? Bravo, you certainly act like it…"

"Morrigan, be nice." Aedan chided, "Not your definition of nice, my definition, alright?"

The sorceress rolls her eyes and says nothing else, much to my relief. I didn't need her shit, I've had enough idle words coming from the bard already. The party gathers, and we leave the safety of the city's walls and into the wilderness outside.

"I hope she doesn't give you much of a hard time, give her a chance, you'll get used to it." Aedan assures me on behalf of his lady.

"I do not question your choice of women, Warden, it is not my place." I answered. "If she contributes to your group, then I can tolerate her arrogance. She's not the first haughty witch I've met in my life." And most of those witches are dead by my hand.

"Why do you talk as if you're still an outsider, Langerd? It's not 'my' group, it's yours as well."

"I appreciate you thinking of me that way, but I won't be staying in your company for long." I pointed out, "I will help you fight the darkspawn as honor dictates, but I must tend to my own at some point, and I cannot do that travelling with you."

"Why not?"

I let my horse lower his pace so that our conversation would remain out of earshot of the two women ahead of us. "I've had visions, Aedan…visions of the Maker."

Aedan takes my words seriously, which was a rare response. "The Maker? Are you sure?"

I nodded, "And they are not the good kind."

"Tell me about it, please." He asks. And I did, leaving out none of the details to emphasize my reasons for acting so…agitated.

Aedan forms an O with his lips and whistles, but remains silent about the whole thing. The subject was too serious to address at the moment, it would seem for him, so he changed it. "So…how has your introduction with the others gone?"

"How do you think?" I grunted, "Just look at how Morrigan's made an impression, that'll give you an idea."

"How about with Sten?" There was an amused smirk in the Warden's face.

"Well, that's different…" I thought back to the giant, "We just stared at each other…I like him."

"Oh, well now!" Aedan chuckled, "That's no surprise. I'm just glad you actually talk, compared to him."

"What?" I shrugged, "I love talking whenever I can, sensibly. It reminds me to appreciate the little things. One day my throat may rot to the point that I cannot speak at all, so I must make the most of it."

"So that's what happens? Y'know, the whole deal with you dying, coming back and sucking in souls?"

I sighed, "It's a necessity, you must understand. If I had the choice, I wouldn't do it. Another reason why I choose my fights, it's better taking the souls of wicked men and monsters alike than the innocents."

"I suppose so."

"Andraste's grace! What is that?" Leliana exclaimed, her horse rearing on its hind legs in fear as a brilliant ray suddenly illuminates the dark forest we were traveling through! There were no stars in the early morning skies, nor was there a moon to contest it, so it was fairly easy to see the beam of light tear through the clouds and smite the ground before us.

The birds, awakened beyond their time, fly out of the trees as the earth shook beneath our feet. I calmed my mount and hissed for the wolf to stop snarling, immediately going for my sword as a shadow rises from the crater.

I dismounted, "You should spread out, Warden!"

The group does its best, despite the spooked horses having difficulty responding. "Why? What is it?"

A small red glow emanates from the shadow, heralding the revelation of the hulking gray giant of a knight that hurled forth its challenge. There were other manifestations of the legendary seeker. But I, like everyone in Drangleic, knew who it was…

"It's the Pursuer."

The wraith howls as it rises from the cinders, hefting the ultra-greatsword that felled a thousand Curse-bearers like me. If it walks the world of Thedas, there's only one thing it's after.

"It has come for me." I accepted the fact grimly, knowing that there's little to no chance of escaping the hunter of souls. There's no denying I have to fight my way out of this, but if it's the Pursuer I'm facing, I'm probably going to end up dead permanently.

Half of me wants that to happen, and the other clings desperately to the instinct of self-preservation.

Ultimately, the latter wins the argument. "Come on! I'm here, take me!"

The Pursuer dashes towards me, striking first with its massive shield and delivering a downwards strike with its equally massive weapon. It misses both as I rolled underneath his bulky frame, stabbing quickly to probe for a weakspot.

The Pursuer's armor was thick, to say the least, and the tip of my sword bounces off harmlessly, calling for the attention of the seeker and prompting me to back away.

Aedan does the opposite of what I asked, stubborn lad, and charges off against the Pursuer.

Effortlessly, the seeker knocks him off his feet with a nonchalant bash of the shield. Aedan flies, landing painfully against the trunk of a nearby oak. His Warden's armor saved him from sustaining immediate injuries, and he returns to battle in no time.

Still on horseback, Morrigan casts a bolt of lightning, which strikes twice against the Pursuer's raised shield. Like Aedan, all she was able to do was distract him from closing in on me.

Leliana, on the other hand, handled her archery skills well. Though there were little to no chinks in the Pursuer's armor, she found the spots where her arrows penetrated deep, and this caused the Pursuer to switch targets between the mage and her.

When I yet roamed the lands of Drangleic, I only managed to survive attacks from the Pursuers by doing two things.

Running, and using the terrain to my advantage.

Perhaps in this instance, I could do both and actually manage to kill him? A slim chance, but I have to take it, or else Aedan and his group die on me. And I certainly can't have that.

Jumping onto my horse, I whistled to regain his attention. "Over here, you ugly fuck!" Then, I kicked my mount's sides to spur him to a full gallop. "Hey! I know you want this!"

The Pursuer breaks engagement, sinking into a hex-pit of his own design and disappearing from the battlefield. I knew he was after me, which was all I wanted in the first place.

Had to draw him out, find the right place to beat him.

I could hear the others calling me, but I ignored them, focusing my attention on searching the woods for someplace advantageous. And I found one in a nick of time, an old moss-covered watchtower.

"Perfect." I grinned, vaulting off my saddle and racing through the door, up the flight of stairs and into the ring that made up the top of the tower. I had only a second to call upon the magicks before the Pursuer re-emerged from the hex-pit to resume our battle.

The clouds grew darker, growing heavy with rain. I look up and see flashes in the distance, a sign that lightning was close.

That was the end for my hour of planning, and I stepped to the side as the Pursuer brought down his blade to smite the cobblestone floor. The droplets pour over us, the storm's approach emphasized by the heavy claps of thunder.

The Pursuer glares at me through the narrow slit of his helmet and plucks his sword out, circling around me like a direwolf with a cornered stag.

But this stag can yet bare his antlers.

I waited until he started to charge again, raising my hand and calling down a large shaft of lightning to strike him just before his sword could be brought to bear! The Pursuer bursts into flames, dropping to his knees as another shaft lances through the sky, slamming down with such force that it weakened the whole structure beneath us.

My ears grow deaf from the roar overhead, and my sweat pours from my neck as my entire body heats up from being too close to the site where the shafts struck. Like the forgotten legends of old, where the kings fought the titans of the sea, I drove my blade through the narrow slit of the Pursuer's helm just as another shaft of lightning falls from the heaving sky.

Standing that close to deliver the killing blow, I too was struck by it. Like a thousand fires bursting in all at once, my body suddenly grew numb with the pain that came with it.

My visions whites out, and I hear a heavy noise in the back of my head.

How long I stood there in a daze, I had no idea. But by the time it all became clear to me, the skies were bright with the morning's light, ushering in a much needed feeling of serenity and safety.

The Pursuer lay at my feet, dead, the cache of weapons at his back free to be looted by all. I laid my hand on his chest and took all the souls left in that smoking shell.

"Langerd! There you are!" Aedan called, scrambling up through the steps to my side. "Maker's breath, you killed him? All by yourself?"

"With a little help from the bountiful skies, yes." I breathed, "Just barely."

My walk was unsteady, and I would've fallen if Leliana hadn't caught me. She helped me sit down against the wall, "Wait for me, I will rest a while…" I asked of them, breathing heavily.

"What exactly is that thing?" Aedan inquired.

I closed my eyes and let the dull throbbing of my head cease, "That was a Pursuer, my friend, a hunter of souls. But these hunters pursue a very particular kind of prey, namely my kind."

"Do you think there's a reason behind him chasing you?"

"I suppose anything's possible…" I started to think on it, "It can't be a coincidence, someone sent that thing to kill me."

"And to think I thought you one too dull for anyone's attention." Morrigan waspishly remarked.

"In truth, it would've probably been for the best if I remained so." I answered, slowly rising from the floor. "Come on, we've got to keep moving."

Before we descended from the tower, I took a moment to invoke a special ritual. Stretching as far as my back would allow, I dramatically thrusted out my hands to welcome the sun's generous light.

"W-What are you doing?" Leliana couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of me.

"Praising the Sun."

 **}!{**

 **Yup, couldn't help but add that popular gesture ;P**

 **Thank you for you continued support of this fic, I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think in the comments, and please feel free to PM me about any suggestions or ideas you feel must be added to make this fic better :)**

 **Peace V**


	8. Queen's Gambit Part One

**}!{**

A retractable spear with the pierced skull emblem of House Duskcaller…

A serrated katana, a thorned mace…

An ivory bow of unknown make, and a quiver-full of arrows tipped with aromatic ooze…

A hoplon bearing the seal of Heide's gryphon riders…

All these were plucked from the corpse of the fallen Pursuer, and I never regretted that fateful encounter. Thanks to his failure, I was now better stocked than when I first got here.

Of course, it would take a great deal of effort to recall how to use these weapons, but over time I got around it. In the days that followed travelling with the Warden across the land of Ferelden to get to the capital city, I had spare time to practice wielding the spear.

It was hard, especially when the proper use involved spinning like one with a twinblade.

Of all the weapons in my growing arsenal, I've found this one to be my favorite. House Duskcaller, from what I can remember, was known for training its small army to particularly use them for the great war against the Giants. Even King Vendrick commended them for mastering the complicated and largely underestimated tool of destruction.

One night, as I sparred with myself, the Warden and the bard came to sat on the grass, eating sweetrolls. After an hour, I stopped when Leliana started to giggle…

"Sorry, you just look so funny waving that spear about."

Aedan tried his best to suppress a laugh, "She's not wrong on that part. Whatever are you trying to do there?"

I rolled my eyes and folded the spear, "Well, if part of the manuever requires distraction, I think I'm making good progress." Suddenly, I thrusted the weapon forward, activating the chain mechanism within the spear and sending the head sailing through the air, and burying itself within the trunk of a nearby tree.

Yanking the shaft, the chain rattles as it retracted the head back into position. "Think of it as a dance, and I'm just learning the first few steps…"

"Alright, point taken."

I put the spear back with the rest, taking out my sword to scrape off the dried blood left within the cracks of the hilt. The whole party remains gathered around the campfire, exchanging stories or delving into idle chatter.

I maintained my habit, and stayed out.

The true reason being contemplating on recent events. Someone called a legendary undead seeker to kill me, that would mean something was brewing here on Thedas, and it wasn't just the Blight.

It would take the power of a greater summoner to have control over a Pursuer. Actually, no one can take control of a Pursuer, and that's what worries me.

It won't take long before another would be sent snapping at my heels.

"Tell me about this Loghain, Warden." I inquired as I chipped away at a stick with my dagger. "I understand he betrayed you and your friend Alistair and left you for dead in the fields of battle. If it isn't too personal for me to ask, what exactly happened between you?"

"Our King Cailan trusted him to provide reinforcements to battle the darkspawn in the ruins of Ostagar." Aedan explained, "He didn't come. A lot of good men died that day, all because he wanted the throne for himself."

"Power begets madness." I examine the little figurine I've carved and chip some more. "And through madness, evil speaks. I've never met the man, but I know men of similar ilk. In Drangleic, the curse allows them to show their truest nature."

Aedan chooses not to dwell on the topic, "You're a knight, aren't you? What can you tell me about…Heide, is it?"

"Not much to tell." I shrugged, "I remember serving a good king and his queen, a battle against the Giants of the Sea, and then the ocean swallowed Heide. From there, I ceased to become a knight of the Order."

"Then…the curse?"

I nodded, "Then the curse."

"The Guardian in the Temple spoke of your wife and son-

Aedan stops when he notices my disapproving stare, "I am sorry, my friend. I know how it feels to lose someone close to you. Know that I'm only trying to help, but I understand if you don't want to talk about it."

"I appreciate your concern." I answered, "And you are right, I don't want to talk about it."

"Very well, next topic." Aedan relented, "What about this curse of yours? Is it contagious?"

"Have you looked in the mirror lately, Warden?" I asked nonchalantly, "If your back remains spotless, you have your answer." I take the horse figurine and blew gently to brush off the shavings, pausing to admire my work in the faint glow of the campfire.

"Are you in pain? Is there anything I can do to help?"

I chuckled, "Again, your concern for me is well received. No, there's nothing you or anyone can do to break the curse. It's just something I have to live with for all eternity."

"Eternity, huh?" Aedan sits down next to me, "You don't have to look upon it so grimly. Think of it as immortality."

I smiled at his attempts to make light of the situation, and we sit in silence for an hour, watching the others tire each other out with similar talk until they all went to sleep.

"I cannot remain in this world, Warden." I speak up, "Not really…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Once I have outlived my purpose, whatever that is, I will forever be a blight upon Thedas. An undead has no place here…"

"That's not true." Aedan says, "You could join the Grey Wardens! A man with your experience will be an invaluable asset to the order. Hell, we're all tainted in this business, and Maker knows we need all the blades we can get. You will never fall short of purpose in this world, there's always something to do!"

I just stare at him in silence.

"Like you said, there's a reason why you're here. And if you can't find out what it is, fumble around for it."

"There is wisdom in your words, Aedan." I answered, "But, I'm afraid my own rings hollow."

He shrugged, "Think on it, sleep on it." The Warden leaves my side to return to his tent, "You'll figure it out."

"I think I will."

* * *

Our arrival at the capital was on an eventful day. The lords and ladies of the land came together, bringing in their own contributions to Ferelden's army. But today, none of them stand united.

I can see it all happen again. Whether it is by an exterior cataclysm like the Blight, or if they destroy themselves from within, Ferelden will fall. Even if it doesn't, whatever remains will never fully recover.

Why am I here? The question remains.

Loghain arrives last, a condescending scowl on his face as he strides through the room, obviously displeased that he would have to deal with the Warden yet again. The nobleman at his side took one look at Aedan and flashed him an ugly smile.

I didn't ask much for details, but if I had to guess, this was the man responsible for the death of Aedan's family…Rendon Howe.

The Warden wisely showed little reaction to the smug gesture, but I could tell the hatred was only skin deep, ready to strike if he antagonizes him again.

"Loghain…" Arl Eamon greeted the regent, "It's an honor for the regent to find the time to come greet me personally."

"How could I not welcome a man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estates while a Blight claws at our land?" The general replied haughtily.

"The Blight is why I'm here. With Cailan dead, Ferelden must have a king to lead it against the darkspawn-

"Ferelden has a strong leader!" Loghain interrupted, "Its queen. And I lead her armies."

"Considering Ostagar, perhaps we need a better general." Aedan spoke up, much to the annoyance of the opposing party.

I didn't like delving into politics, even though all I did was just stand there. There's a different kind of corruption brewing in the hearts of these men, perhaps akin to the Darksign itself, but still…

"There is talk that your illness left you feeble, Eamon." Loghain paced around in front of us, "Some worry that you may no longer be fit to advise Ferelden."

"Illness? Why not call your poison by its true name?" Eamon scoffed, "Not everyone in the Landsmeet will cast aside their loyalties as easily as you and these…sycophants."

"How long have you been gone from court, Eamon?" Loghain sneered, "Don't you recognize Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine, and Teryn of Highever?"

"And current Arl of Denerim." Lord Rendon couldn't help but brag, "Since Urien's unfortunate fate at Ostagar. The regent has been most generous to those who prove loyal."

"Bootlicking will only get you so far, milord." I growled.

"And who's this?" Loghain's brow arched at the interruption, "Some new stray you picked up on the road? A new knight pressed into service perhaps? If so, you should teach the man when to curb his tongue. Your betters are talking."

"I do not serve the Arl." I replied, "Nor are you _my_ betters, betrayer."

"Enough!" The noblewoman next to Lord Howe announced, "Loghain, this is neither the time nor place. We had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Arl Eamon. Our people are frightened; our king is dead, and our land is under seige. We must be united now, if we are to endure this crisis. You divide our nation and weaken our efforts against the Blight with your selfish ambitions to the throne!"

With that, Loghain stomps off with his lackeys not far behind.

"Well, that was bracing." Eamon turned to us, "I didn't expect Loghain to show himself quite so soon."

"What are we to do now?" Aedan asks.

"Calling the Landsmeet is only the start." Eamon mused, "Now we must ensure that every noble there sees Loghain's duplicity. We have no small task ahead of us."

"Forgive me for saying so, Warden." I said, "But I have no skill in politics, and I may muddle it up like I did with Loghain. I'd have better use down in the barracks or in the stables watching the horses. I'll meet you in the courtyard when it's all over."

Aedan nodded, "You're excused, Langerd."

I hated sounding weak in that aspect, but I truly could not help myself. Leave politics and the like to those who have the breeding for it.

For the next few hours I did as I've said, wandering through the busy streets of the city, and then back through the near-empty halls of the castle grounds. I was not alone in this, though.

Bon-bon, as was the name given to him by Leliana, followed me everywhere. I preferred being alone, but as of late, I continue to welcome the company. The wolf was loyal, a trait not uncommon amongst beasts, and should be commended.

"Bon-bon." I said to him, ruffling the fur on his head. "Hah…Leliana adores you, and I can see why."

Bon-bon cocks his head to the right with an inquisitive whine and lets his tongue hang out, proving my point. "Are you sure you don't have a bit of dog in you?" The wolf had a rather pleasant experience in the camp, romping ang playing ridiculous games with the mabari hound.

Aedan tells me this particular breed was born with the mind of a twelve-year old child, having been manipulated to serve the Magisters of Tevinter when they invaded Ferelden centuries ago.

Ferelden dog lords, the resistance at the time, befriended the caged beasts and earned their loyalty in the war, effectively pushing the Tevinter forces from the land and securing its freedom and independence. The mabari hounds have served them ever since…

"Langerd!" Aedan called from the other side of the courtyard. "There you are! We've been looking all over for you!"

"Apologies." I said, pushing myself off the statue that I was leaning against. "A city as large as Denerim, one can easily get lost."

"So here's the mighty Grey Warden at long last." A voice announced.

There was a man, dressed in leather armor, bearing the odd symbol of a raven. He strode forward from the top of a pedestal, eyes fixed on Aedan. "The Crows send their greetings once again." It was clear they've met at some point.

"Friend of yours?" I asked, drawing my spear and readying my shield.

"An acquaintance." Aedan jested, "No, just one of the hundred men and women all over Thedas who wants to kill me."

Bon-bon bristled and snapped his jaws.

"And where is Zevran?" The Crow referred to that pointed-eared rogue in our company. I hadn't the pleasure of getting acquainted with him, and would remain that way. It's not that I hate him, it's just that I've had bad experiences fighting the likes of him. "I don't see him with you. How very disappointing."

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Zevran appeared. "Here I am, Taliesen! Tell me, were you sent? Or did you volunteer for the job?"

"Oho! And he makes an appearance!" Taliesen exclaimed, "I volunteered, of course. When I heard that the great Zevran has gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself."

"Is that so? Well, here I am, in the flesh."

"You can return with me, Zevran." The Crow offered, the shadows introducing a great number of assassins, ready to strike at their leader's command. "I know why you did this, and I don't blame you. It's not too late. Come back and we'll make up a story, anyone can make a mistake."

"Of course, I need to be dead first." Aedan mutters.

"I'm sorry my old friend." Zevran smiles sadly as he draws out his swords, "But the answer is no. I'm not coming back…and you should have stayed in Antiva."

"Quite right." I concurred, sending my spear lashing out like a whip at the nearest Crow and raising my shield to block the daggers that followed. Bon-bon cleverly leaped off the street, which I was right to suspect had traps hidden amongst the cobblestones, bouncing off the pillar and lunging at a hapless archer.

He tears at her throat quickly and withdraws back to us. I protected him with my shield, advancing slowly as the Crows moved to separate us. When they saw that they could not succeed in that tactic, they immediately switched to concentrating their fire on the ones who bolstered the party- namely me, the juggernaut.

Arrow shafts skidded off the rims of my raised hoplon, landing painfully against my unprotected knees. Every now and then, I retaliate by lowering the guard and thrusting my spear forward, whittling down at the Crows' numbers.

I proved to be an adequate distraction, much to the glee of our knife-eared rogue, offering himself many chances to weave in and out without so much as a scratch on his person. Zevran's blades don't exactly cut deep, but they're laced with a very potent poison of his own design, which did the job better than a finely etched sword.

The battle was lost, on the Crows' part. Even though they outnumbered us three to one, our party proved more than a match for the assassins. Taliesen, backed into a corner, fought desperately to live up to his organization's name.

Alas, it was not enough.

Aedan split him in two with his longsword, putting an end to the contract.

"And there it is." Zevran sighs, wiping the blood from his face and neck. "Taliesen is dead, and I am free of the Crows. They will assume that I am dead, along with him. So long as I don't make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out." He pauses, turning to the Warden. "I have enjoyed our company. But I am wondering if it is time for me to leave. That will be the practical thing to do, no? There is freedom awaiting me that I have never known. But I suppose the decision is yours. Will you let me go?"

"Don't you want to stay for the treasure?" Aedan persuaded.

"Hmmm…" Zevran's eyes widened with mischief, "You make a convincing offer, and you do seem to stumble onto treasure on a regular basis, somehow. Then let us return to the task at hand. There is much to do, yes?"

"A lot." I agreed, yanking out the shafts still sticking out of my legs. "Yes. Speaking of which, what exactly are we doing out here?"

"We're going to save the queen, that's what we're doing." Aedan answered, "Tell me, Langerd, do you know how to pretend being a guard?"

"I was a squire once, don't know if that counts." I offered.

"Nah, it'll have to do."

 **}!{**


	9. Queen's Gambit Part Two

**}!{**

"Stop squirming, that noise is driving me insane!" Alistair hissed at the clanking of my armor.

"I can't help it." I moved my shoulder, the uncomfortable pinch setting in with each movement. "Why the fuck did I agree to this? This damned armor is two sizes too small for me!"

"You stand out wearing that white-mail Heide knight armor." The Warden reminds me, moving to help adjust the tight leather bindings. "We have to look the part as guards- not just act it, mind you."

I ceased my complaints once we entered the castle where Queen Anora was staying in. It has come to Aedan's attention that someone in the Landsmeet wants the Queen dead, most likely to further jeopardize the whole gathering and publicly disgrace Arl Eamon.

It was, without a doubt, a scheme that only Lord Howe can form. It wouldn't have come as a surprise, given his reputation for backstabbing his allies whenever it's profitable.

I hate politics.

The elf handmaiden, a woman under the employ of the Arl, led us through the second-floor corridors and into the Queen's bedchamber. We survived an encounter with the outer patrols, maybe two, and those weren't like our brush with the Antivan Crows.

Ferelden security takes its job very seriously, and without my artifacts to protect me…it has been rather difficult, especially with the guardsman getup I was forced to wear for the occasion.

"The Grey Warden is here, milady." The handmaiden calls softly through the keyhole.

"Thank the Maker!" We hear the Queen exclaim from the other side. Footsteps approach the door, "I would greet you properly, but I'm afraid we've had a…setback."

"Aedan, you may not see it, but I sense a magical barrier over the door." I warned as the Warden got too close. "It may seem that Lord Howe was not content with simply leaving her under guard."

"Quite right." Queen Anora sighed.

"Can we undo the spell?" Aedan asked me.

"By we, you mean me of course." I grunted, "No. I haven't mastered the art of dispelling, you'd have to find another way."

"Find the mage who cast it, he will most likely be at Howe's side." Anora suggested.

"Teryn Howe will probably be in his rooms." The handmaiden informed, "They're at the end of the hall, to the left."

Wasting no time, we follow her directions and sprint down the wide corridor. Since this part of the castle was mostly empty due to the business outside, we didn't have to worry explaining ourselves to the guards should we be spotted. Not that we couldn't handle it, we just prefer avoiding an incident.

"Who goes there?!"

Well, mostly empty. A lone guard, watching a single cell built within the personal cellar of Lord Howe's room, rose from his chair and drew his sword as we entered. Avoiding an incident was impossible, as I now knew.

Suddenly, two hands grab the guard by the neck and drag him back into the bars of the cell. With one strong pull, and a sickening snap, the guard falls limp onto the floor.

Rummaging through the corpse, the man plucks out the keys and unlocks the cell door, changing quickly into the guardsman's gear before speaking to us.

Unkempt hair, faint stubble upon the jaw, the man must've been kept here for some time now. Another one unfortunate enough to cross paths with Lord Howe. "I thank you for creating such distraction, stranger. I have been waiting days for the opportunity. Do you think you could…" He stops for a moment, recognition dawning in his eyes as he spots Alistair among us. "Alistair, is that you?"

Alistair knows him as well, "You were at my joining! Jader, was it? Or Montsimmard?"

"I am Riordan, senior Warden of Jader, but born and bred in Highever and glad to be home." He introduced himself.

"How did Arl Howe capture you?" Aedan inquired.

"With an offer of hospitality and a laced chalice." Came the answer, "I was foolish to think Loghain didn't yet know who I was."

"Where is the Arl?" I asked.

"I saw him go into the dungeons, he may still be there." Riordan answered, suddenly looking a bit weak. "I will seek you out later, after I find a good physician."

With that, he leaves the prison, and we head further down to face the Arl. No doubt Aedan would seek to avenge his family, so I decided to leave the Arl for the Warden to deal with. Either way, I will get my fair share of souls this day.

"Who goes?" Another guardsman stands in our way.

Before Aedan could answer, I had already strode forward and stuck my sword through him. The others were too slow to react to the death of their comrade, and we make short work of them.

"No turning back now, we can't hide this many bodies." Alistair declared.

A mabari hound suddenly makes a running leap through the air, jaws aimed for my throat, and lands on my back. Weighing like a sack of rocks, my balance was impaired, and I toppled over, vulnerable to the hound's next attack.

Aedan was quick to come to my aid, stabbing through the mabari's side as he moved to tear at my neck.

I give the Warden an appreciative nod then returned to the frey, hacking and slashing my way to the next room. Much to my disgust, as it turns out, I stumbled upon a torture chamber.

Blood still adorned the racks where the Arl's victims were subjected to. One even remained tethered to the painful device when I got there. "Aedan! Help me with this one!" I called for the Warden.

Once finished with the prison guard, together, we release the prisoner and help him to his feet. Aside from some minor scratches and bruises on his wrists and ankles, he seemed to fare better than the ones who previously occupied this room.

"Was this supposed to be a lesson?" He groaned, "Did my father think it funny to leave me here so long before sending you?"

Naturally, the response left us confused, "Who are you?"

"Wait, oh, my father didn't send you?" He asked, "I am Oswyn, son of Bann Sighard, of the Dragon's Peak Bannorn. You have my heartfelt gratitude, serrah, and I assume as well, the gratitude of the entire Dragon's Peak Bannorn. If my father sent no one after me, I can only assume he does not yet know the true colors of the snakes he has allied with."

"Loghain's lapdog seems to know only how to make enemies these days." I commented.

"The way is clear." Aedan informs, "You are free, leave while you can." And the boy takes heed of the warning, promising to speak on our behalf to his father back home. This was good news, concerning the fact that we were also gathering allies to back us against Loghain in the Landsmeet.

"Feels good to accomplish two things at one time." Aedan declared, finding the master keys to free the prisoners unjustly placed within. Once he had done so, we moved on, pressing ever closer to face the Arl.

I go in first, then Aedan. Arl Howe was waiting for us.

"Well well, Bryce Cousland's little boy, all grown up!" He smirked, "And still trying to fit into daddy's armor. I never thought you would be fool enough to turn up here. Well…I never thought you'd live, either." As he spoke, his own entourage of guards gathered about for the confrontation. "I must say I'm surprised Eamon would condone you invading my castle and killing my men. Is he losing faith in the persuasive powers of his Landsmeet?"

"He might." I answered, "But his faith will grow once he hears of your death."

Rendon Howe scowls at my words and signals for his men to engage, "Should've chosen something better for your last words!"

I plant my feet firmly on the ground and met the charge, pummeling the Arl's soldiers backwards with a well-timed dash forward with my shield. Like a battering ram against a warped wooden door, the men fell apart, caught off-guard by the unorthodox manuever.

Zevran takes advantage of the distraction I've caused, doing what he does best and weaves in and out of the battle like a minstrel in a court of dancers, except this dance was with deadly intent.

I was in the thick of it all, but this doesn't seem to bother Alistair when he leaves the rear and joins me in the front. Together, we leave the majority of Lord Howe's entourage staggering, open for Aedan and his elven friend to finish off.

Then, we were left with the Arl himself.

Alistair was busy hacking away at the survivors, as was the Warden and the assassin, so I was left with handling the old man. "Have you said your prayers?"

"Have you?" He growled, showing a bit of defiance I didn't know his ailing body had, and lunged at me with the ferocity of a tiger. Backed into a corner, any man could've done that…yet very few live to tell the tale.

Arl Howe wasn't walking out of here alive. But I am not the one to deliver the killing blow. That was a right reserved for someone else.

Striking a brutal, yet not fatal, blow to the shoulder, I drove the treacherous snake of a man to his knees. He spat a spray of blood through firmly gritted teeth and glared up at me, "Maker piss on you, bastard! I…deserved…more!"

"Perhaps." I said, wiping his blood off my sword. "Warden, this one's all yours…"

Aedan, with grim anticipation written all over his face, took his place before the murderer of his family. "In the name of Alistair, the true king of Ferelden, I sentence you to death for the crimes you have committed against the crown and against the land. Anything to say in your defense, Lord Howe?"

"Fuck you…your mother…and your father!" The Arl cackled. "Fuck House Cousland!"

"Noted." Aedan answered, unfazed by the taunt, and lopped off the traitor's head with one swing of his blade.

I nodded my approval at how the Warden carried out both his revenge and duty to Ferelden at the same time. Not many men could've held it together that way, he earned my admiration. "That's one less to worry about."

"Yeah, though I think it's a little early to call me king just yet." Alistair quips.

"Don't spoil the moment, lad." I chided him, "How about it Aedan? We've killed the Arl, his mage pawn and his guards. Is it safe to assume we've lifted the ward off the doors yet?"

"I believe so." Aedan says with a nod, "Come on, we're not done just yet."

He was right to say so. Getting inside the castle and meeting up with the Queen was one thing, getting her out in one piece amongst all the alarmed guards of Howe's castle was entirely another.

She awaited at the open door of her bedroom wearing a guard's armor as a disguise. "My thanks, Warden." And here was the opposite of me. Whereas mine was two sizes too small, the Queen's armor was two size too large for her small frame. It makes one wonder how she managed to slip into it and walk at all.

"Come, your highness." Aedan beckons, "Time's a wasting."

We didn't get far, however. We thought the chaos downstairs would've gotten their attention elsewhere, but as fate would have it, Ser Cauthrien was waiting for us at the foot of the stairs- the only sure way out.

"Warden, in the name of the regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms. Surrender, and you may be shown mercy."

"We don't have time for this." I muttered, calling upon a chain of lightning to debilitate the formation of guardsmen in front of the lady knight. My abrupt response was good start, catching them once again off guard.

But unlike Rendon Howe's men, this contingent lashes back quicker, showering our party with a hail of crossbow bolts. We disperse in separate directions, though Alistair chose to see to it personally that Anora got out of that tight spot unscathed. He took her by the arm and raised his shield to block the bolts that came their way, steadily but surely gaining way to the exit.

"Come on! Fight!" I roared at Ser Cauthrien, sheathing my sword and drawing forward the Duskcaller's spear. Seeing her men taking pause to reload their crossbows, I initiated a one-on-one duel with the knight, forcing her out of the safety of the circle of her men and into the thick of the battleground.

She handled herself pretty well, though I would've preferred a show of Fereldan might on the allied side instead of this. Funny how things work sometimes.

Suddenly, Cauthrien sees my spear coming and parries the strike, thrusting her own weapon through me as a result. A victorious smile appears on her face as she moves to retrieve her blade from my chest, but it slowly fades when she realizes that I was still standing upright…

I bash her face in with my shield and knock her back, prying the blade out without so much as a chirp.

With my spear dropped, I was left with a bare hand, so I picked the knight up by the throat and give it a squeeze. Cauthrien makes a violent hacking sound as my grip tightens around her windpipe, the threat of crushing it forcing the defiance out of her eyes and replacing it with a desperation I've seen so commonly amongst the living. "Mercy…please…"

"No." I frowned, tightening my grip even further.

"Langerd! Stop!" Aedan shouted.

There, I noticed for the first time the reason for the sudden quiet that settled in. The battle was already over, and the survivors on Cauthrien's contingent had surrendered…

"Let her go." The Warden puts a hand on my shoulder, "She's a loyal soldier to Ferelden, only following what she thinks is right."

I slowly acknowledge my friend's words, relaxing my grip and letting the dazes woman to drop to the bloodied floor. Pain suddenly erupts from the massive gash in my chest, and I do my best to ignore it, growling quietly instead of howling in agony. If he wants to be merciful, I'll respect his decision. His funeral, if this bites us in the ass.

"T-Thank you…" Ser Cauthrien coughs, remaining on the floor as the party escorts the unharmed Queen out of Rendon Howe's castle and back to the safety of Arl Eamon's castle.

"Want Wynne to have a look at that wound once we get to home?" Aedan inquired.

"No need." I replied, "I've feasted on the souls of the dead, enough to heal me before we even get to the threshold."

Aedan remains silent, obviously disgusted with my eerie needs as an undead, though I appreciated him not saying anything about it.

 **}!{**


	10. A Walk in the Woods

**Hey there, OmeganQueen here!**

 **Sorry for the long update, guys.**

 **Fell down the stairs when I tripped over my dog and broke my arm. The dog's fine, and I'm alright now, so I'm getting back at it :)**

 **Aside from a renewed motivation to write again, I've found a new appreciation for the human body's amazing healing ability. So, if you find yourself in the same situation as I was, don't worry. The pain doesn't last, and you'll be surprised at how fast your system reacts.**

 **Thank you for your patience and continued support, please enjoy :)**

 **}!{**

Bon-bon whined and put his head on my lap. The wolf had gotten restless as the hours passed, eager to get back in action after getting a taste of it facing against the Crows and the teryn's men.

Also, he smelled blood on me, and worried endlessly about my injuries.

"Shut up, the wounds have closed." I growled at him, "I don't need any more coddling, least of all, from you!"

I discarded the flimsy guardsman gear and donned my trusty armor, embracing the satisfaction that came with the weight of the chainmail, which I had grown fond of. Aedan's mabari hound passes by the door, and off goes Bon-bon for another game of tag, which was fine by me.

I wanted to be alone.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Langerd?" Leliana inquires. She was waiting just outside my door and heard my outburst with the wolf.

"My nights haven't gone well as of late." I grunted, "The nightmares are getting worse."

"We're close to defeating the archdemon and the darkspawn." The archer said encouragingly, "It won't be long now."

I nodded, twisting the handle of my blade nervously as the old desire to wander caused me to feel ever more tense. "I hope not too long. If there's nothing the Warden needs of me, I wish to take a walk in the city outskirts. I feel it's getting too cramped in here…"

"Would you mind if I accompanied you?" Leliana asks.

The inquiry naturally surprised me, but I did not show it. "Very well, as long as you keep the small talk to a minimum."

We set out into the forests outside Denerim, ignoring the prestigous noble estates, wide parkways and chantries of the Maker's faith along the way. I chose the closest spot to the West Imperial road so we wouldn't lose our way, and also so that the Warden wouldn't have to go through a lot of trouble finding us if we were needed.

By this time, the high noon sun was in the center of the sky, the hour in which the midday mist comes to drench the parched leaves in heavy dew, also the hour when the wilds come to life. Leliana respected my wishes and kept quiet during the long walk, giving me ample opportunity to appreciate the beauty that lay within the forest.

There was a look of amusement on her face as a fawn approaches me, absent fear, but filled the same curiousity that first drew Bon-bon to me back in that frost-covered mountain.

I extend my hand to let the youngling touch me, its nose tentatively brushing against the surface of my palm.

Amusement turns to amazement, "How do you do this?"

"People gaze at animals for two reasons." I explained, giving the fawn a pat on the shoulder and sending him off to his mother. "Either as meat for their next meal, or as pets to be kept in cages. It's easy to forget animals are more perceptive than us, that's why they run at the first sign of man's presence."

"But not you?"

I shake my head, "Would you run from a dead sapling? That's what I am to these creatures, a temporary phase to give way for spring's new flora. I give off the aroma of decay and change that draws them in. Seeing me move like the living invokes curiousity."

A mother bear and her cubs wanders close to the clearing. Leliana instinctively reaches for her bow, further proving my point about the difference of the living and the undead. "Observe."

"Langerd…" The archer's voice was low, not wanting to instigate anything by loud words with an overprotective mother bear in the vicinity. "I believe it's time to go."

"Not just yet." I answered, "Put your weapon away, you're going to scare the cubs. Do you want that to happen, in front of their mother?" Leliana reluctantly obeys, taking a step back just in case.

Unaware of us, unlike their parent, the cubs wrestled with each other over the grass. The mother bear eyes me warily, but like the fawn, I feel no hostility from her as her children take notice of me for the first time and scramble up to my legs.

They clawed and grabbed onto the hinges of my greaves and, being the expert climbers they are, went all the way to my shoulders. With the strength of an undead, they weren't heavy, but I preferred if they were safely on the ground than risk falling and hurting themselves.

Making cute little sounds akin to laughter, they scurry back to their mother, much to the relief of the archer standing a good fifteen meters from me. The bear family lumbers off, leaving the clearing for the two of us.

"Alright." Leliana heaves a sigh of relief, clearly not amused by what happened. "I think that's enough of a nature walk for one day, don't you think?"

"I apologize if I've made things too bracing for you." I said, half-sarcastically. She has herself to blame, she insisted on coming along after all. "But I won't leave just yet. Go on, return to the city. I'm sure you'd enjoy it more conversing with the rest of the Warden's companions."

Leliana opens her mouth, a protest ready on her tongue, but shuts it quickly. Turning heel, she walks out of the clearing and back to the main road.

"Oh, and Leliana?" I called out to her, "The next time you try, remember the bear. Otherwise, stick to writing poems and playing the lute."

At this, Leliana throws a glare at me, but again says nothing. We were both adults, quick enough to notice the subtle messages in both words and actions. She's taken a liking to me and was probing for a response.

She got it, and not the one she was looking for. I don't hate her for trying, she's still young and taking everything life was offering was natural for a woman of her age. But if she makes a move on me, well…everything about me is complicated.

I sighed and shook my head, "Women…"

A voice, both otherworldly and alluring, addresses my actions. _ **"You shouldn't have done that. This world is already filled with the wicked, the heartless, and the broken…"**_

A single ray of light from the sun shone down before me, and a woman in gleaming gilded armor descended from the sky, hovering just above the ground until the tip of her boots touched the many blades of grass. _**"Do not add to their number…"**_

I've had my share of encounters with divine-like beings, so I wasn't awed by this display. "She's naïve, talkative, childish." I said nonchalantly, "She lacks spine. Hardening her would be most beneficial. But you didn't come here to talk about that, did you?"

" _ **No."**_ The woman answers, _**"But I appreciate you humoring me on idle talk. I hadn't the chance to with anyone else in the last hundred years."**_

"Then come." I beckoned, "Walk with me, unless you'd prefer me kneeling like another one of those chantry sycophants."

She chuckled, _**"Oh yes, a walk would be lovely."**_

It seemed that with the otherworldly visitor's arrival, the forest grew ever more lively. Grass gave way to roses of the rarest breed, absent thorns and shining bright as they basked in the brilliance of the woman's presence. The birds sang a tune sweeter than ever before, almost like a special number reserved only for her.

" _ **I am Andraste."**_ She introduced herself, _ **" I'm sure you've heard of me."**_

I nodded, "I have. And frankly, I'm torn between two opinions of what I've heard."

" _ **Oh? How come?"**_

She abolished elven slavery, saved all of Thedas from the First Blight and led the land to the threshold of a golden age. But I was a husband to a loving wife once, and I didn't like the example she set by leaving her spouse for the Maker. Sure, he betrayed her which lef to her martyr's burning at the stake, but that's beside the point.

"My opinions are my own." I answered, "Just tell me what you want. There's a Blight around, in case you haven't noticed, I'm just out here for a walk but I don't want to miss it."

Andraste nodded, acquiescing to my request. _**"I need your help, Knight of Heide, the Maker needs your help."**_

"Of course he does. Why else would he send you here?"

The prophetess shakes her head, _ **"He does not know that I am here. I came on my own, for no matter how many times I plead with him, he will not return to save his creation."**_

I tilted my head to the side, "Then you've come to the wrong person. I'm not even of this world, and I'm certainly not one with your religion. Why don't you ask the Warden, or maybe even Leliana since she claims to hear the Maker's voice."

" _ **They cannot hear me, no matter how hard they try or how strong their faith is. Sometimes it's the faithless and the ignorant who are closer to god than anyone else."**_

I rolled my eyes at this, "Oh? And I suppose I'm one of those two."

" _ **I do not mean to offend. But you must understand how grim the future looks for this land. Do you not think your arrival was no accident, nor your dreams came by coincidence?"**_

I frowned, "You…were the one who brought me here? And the dreams…I see."

Andraste nodded, stopping to pick up a fallen sparrow. With one breath, she heals the bird's broken wing and lets it fly back to its nest. _**"I had hoped that would get your attention."**_

"It did." I grunted, "More than I'd like. But why?"

" _ **Darkness gathers in the horizon. The heroes of this land gain only but a glimpse of it, but they cannot stop it, none of them can."**_ Andraste places her hand on my shoulder, _**"You seek your purpose, I give you one. Journey to the north, and east of Orlais. Find the one of my blood, grow in strength as you take the souls of the slain. Hunt down this evil and strike it out of existence…you will know where to find it."**_

I didn't give my consent, I was still considering it.

" _ **Do this for me, for Thedas, and I shall grant what your heart desires the most; a cure for the curse."**_

"Wait-

Andraste vanishes in the same way she came, a blinding flash of light, leaving me reeling back as I tried to shake the spots in my eyes. "Godsdammit! I didn't agree to this! Come back!"

I glared up at the blue sky, shoulders sagging as I sighed in resignation. "Fuck…"

 **}!{**


	11. Victory at the Landsmeet

**}!{**

"Seek the one of my blood, she says." I grumbled as I entered through the gates of Denerim. "Like I'm supposed to figure out whatever the fuck that means."

I guess I have myself to blame. I've been asking for a reason why I've been plucked from my world, and I got my answer. To tell the truth, I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. I guess I should feel relieved that I got something to do, but then I'm doing it at the behest of a divine who doesn't even have a straight idea of what I really want in return.

A cure for the curse? She may be capable of doing a lot for this world, but I doubt she can reverse something as bleak and runs deep as the Darksign.

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted as a man bumps into me, knocking himself flat on his back without even moving me.

"Andraste's flaming ass! You made of iron, man?" He yelped, rubbing at his sore chest. I glared down at him in response, but to my surprise, I saw a familiar face in him. It was none other than my friend from Lothering. "Old man Locketti?"

"Vandhal!" He exclaims, I help him up and he wraps his strong and sturdy arms around me in a tight but goodnatured grip. "Hahahaha! The Maker's good! It's nice to see a familiar face after all this time!"

"Likewise, old friend. What are you doing in Denerim?"

"Long story, but I'll make it as short as possible." He said, walking with me back to the castle. "After you left, I helped the caravan get safely to Gwaren. Most of them want to abandon everything and start over elsewhere."

"I guess if there's a Blight upon the land, it's easy to severe all ties." I commented.

Loki nodded, "Some went to the Free Marches, like the Hawke family and that Elegant girl. Others, scattered off to Rivain and Orlais. But me? I didn't want to turn my back on Ferelden just yet. Seeing you fight against them darkspawn back in Lothering, I felt ashamed running away from the war."

"It may have been better, wiser even, if you did so." I pointed out.

Loki shrugged, "Perhaps. Next thing I knew, I was up to my neck in darkspawn ambushed through the forests of the Brecilian with a band of mercenaries and adventurers looking to get some payback or collect a few coins from the teryns. Then, I happened to rescue the Arl of Dragon's Peak from an Ogre. After that, I ended up here, as a soldier in his army."

"He didn't promote you to any rank other than a common grunt?" I asked.

"Who needs rank?" Loki answered, "I don't need people saluting me to tell me my own worth! Besides, I'm content where I am."

"If you say so."

"And what about you?" Loki turns to me, "How have things fared on your end?"

I died. Killed a dragon, nearly died once more facing an undead soul hunter. I journeyed with a Grey Warden, rescued a Queen from certain danger and am now waist-deep in politics. "Could be better. Could be worse."

Unsatisfied with my vague answer, Loki insists on prying for details. "Oh come now! That's hardly fair, you gotta give me something."

I shook my head and smiled, "Oh Loki. Some things are best left unsaid, and in my case that's mandatory."

Loki rolled his eyes, "Fine, be that way." He turns heel to join the crowded streets once more, "Well, it was nice seeing you. I hope I get to see you there when we finally take the fight to the darkspawn and end this damned Blight!"

I nodded acknowledgingly and climbed the steps of the castle entrance and into the throneroom where the Landsmeet was taking place.

From the sound of clashing steel, I could tell I had missed much, and it was a good thing I came when I did.

The debates were over, the decision had been made. Loghain had lost support, and the Warden has secured the Queen's right to the throne along with Alistair. At the moment, however, he was busy dueling with the general.

This might've been a desperate attempt to win the Landsmeet, but I admired the die-hard attitude Loghain was showing, even if he was our enemy.

"Where the hell have you been?" Alistair asked me as I joined his side. Leliana stood next to him with Bon-bon sitting at her feet. Frankly, I wasn't surprised she would ignore me after the conclusion of our walk in the woods. But this was neither place nor time for me to address the matter.

Perhaps in private, I can clarify the complications.

"Took a walk." I answered the soon-to-be king, "I take it, thing's have gone well on our side?"

Watching Aedan trading blows with the general was a fitting answer enough. But this wasn't a fight against a lowly darkspawn hurloc, or a brutish ogre. Loghain was hailed as a hero of River Dane, as I heared talk amongst the soldiers in the barracks, and didn't earn that title from lack of skill with the blade.

He stood on par with Aedan when it came to footwork, manueverings and the like. To top it all off, he had the testament of his years and experience in the battlefield as his allies. But strength and youth were Aedan's, and the climax of this battle would prove which of the two was the winning trait.

Suddenly, Loghain lunges forward, bashing Aedan's guard aside with his shield and managed to drive his sword through the Warden's left calf. Grunting in pain, the younger man surmounts the agonizing wound and counters the assault, landing a heavy blow to the general's exposed shoulder that drove him to his knees.

Limping back and dripping blood all over the velvet carpet, Aedan takes a moment to adjust to the pain before drawing close to have at it again.

Loghain lunges forward a second time, but had his attack anticipated by the Warden, and he finds himself losing his weapon from Aedan's expertly timed parry. The sword was thrown across the room, and a few nobles dodge out of the way as it hits the wall behind them.

With only his shield to protect himself, Loghain retreats, but not fast enough to block Aedan's next attack. The Warden's blade bursts through the general's thick platemail armor and comes out through his back!

This doesn't kill Loghain, however, merely wounding him badly. Arl Eamon calls for the duel to halt and signals a nearby healer to see to the dueling parties' injuries. Aedan was victorious.

"I underestimate you, Warden." Loghain heaved as the healer's magic closed his would-be fatal wound. "I thought you were like Cailan, a child playing at war. I was wrong."

I could see the features around Alistair's boyish face grow hard at the traitor's words. "There's a strength in you that I have not seen anywhere since Maric died."

Aedan frowned, clearly not in the mood to be merciful or entertain the general's apologetic display. "You'll pay for all you've done, traitor." He was within his grounds to execute Loghain, and any law on an land would see it as justice.

"Wait!" But not everyone sees it that way, it seems. "There is another option!"

It was Riordan, the Warden we had rescued from Arl Howe's dungeons. "The teyrn is a great general and warrior of reknown, let him be of use. Let him go through the Joining." Seeing the Warden frown, he continued. "There are too few of us. It doesn't matter what we _like_ , it is what we _must_ do. Our duty is to slay the Archdemon. We aren't judges. Kingslayers, bloodmages, traitors, rebels and carta thugs, common bandits. Anyone with the skill and mettle to take up the sword against the darkspawn is welcome among us."

There were only three Wardens in all of Ferelden, as far as I know. So there is a compelling reason to have as many as they can get, I understood that.

Not my decision to make, nor is it my problem. I'm just as spectator to this drama, and I have to say, I find it entertaining.

Anora, naturally as any daughter would want, jumped at the suggestion to save her father from death. "The Joining is often fatal, is it not? If he dies, you gain your revenge. If he lives, you gain a general. Doesn't that satisfy you?"

Alistair, on the other hand, shares Aedan's anger for the man. "Absolutely not! Riordan, this man abandoned our brothers and sisters at Ostagar and blamed us for the deed! He has hunted us down like animals! He tortured you! How can we simply forget that?!"

Aedan's mind was already set, "He must die."

"You can't do that!" Anora cries, "My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people of Ferelden!"

"Anora, hush." Loghain chided her gently, clearly accepting his fate. "It is over."

"Stop treating me like a child!" Anora retorted, "This is serious!"

"Daughters never grow up, Anora." Loghain answers calmly, "They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever."

"Father…" Anora choked on her tears.

"Just make it quick, Warden. I can face the Maker knowing that Ferelden is in your hands."

I calmly made my way through the crowd and pushed the massive throneroom doors open, content in knowing that this matter was settled. Before my foot left the threshold, I hear the soft _'chunk!'_ of the Warden's blade meeting Loghain's flesh once more, putting an end to the general's life in full view of the lords and ladies of the Landsmeet. Alistair's claim to the throne was now secure.

"Justice is served." I remarked, making my way quickly to the room provided to me by the Arl.

It won't be long now. The armies will be gathered so that the march against the darkspawn would begin. I will have only a few moments to prepare for the journey, and I would spend it all on sharpening my arrowtips and blades.

* * *

I waited in that room for what seemed like an eternity. The Warden was busy conversing with the nobles, and like always, the wait was like torture. Since there wasn't anything else for me to do, having done with sharpening and upgrading my equipment to their limits, I considered getting some practice with the bow.

The courtyard with the makeshift target dummies made for an excellent substitute, and I began to fill them with arrowshafts.

Since my arm was used to carrying heavy weapons like the spear and sword, transisting to the bow was not as easy as I first thought. But if I were to survive longer in battle, I must be skilled or at the very least learn all forms of combat, and the bow is a very useful tool indeed.

Hitting the bullseye required patience, but no matter how patient I was, I could never hit where I was aiming.

"Pulling your arm while nocking the string is what's causing your aim to falter." I hear the Orlesian bard suggest, her voice coming from across the courtyard behind me. "Use your back muscles."

I was hoping to avoid a confrontation with her. But I see that's just asking for the impossible.

I did as she suggested since Leliana was more skilled with the bow than I. But even with following her instruction, the arrows didn't hit their mark. Sighing in resignation, I motioned for her to show me how it was done.

One arrow sailed through the air, landing true upon the target's middle. Another was loosed, splitting the first shaft in two and burying its head further in, proving that I had much to learn.

I looked down at the ivory bow in my hand, clearly it would serve better with a more skilled pair of hands. Not mine to keep…

I handed the bow and quiver to Leliana, "Here, it suits you better than on me anyway."

For a moment, I stood there in uncomfortable silence. I needed to clear something up, and I knew I needed to do it now. "Leliana…I apologize for what I said in the woods. Those words may have been few, but stung nonetheless…you didn't deserve that."

Leliana blinked a few times, then smiled. But her answer was left unsaid, for the Warden had finished with the last of the Landsmeet's accolades, and I was summoned to accompany him on his journey to Redcliffe.

"So…" I muttered as I saddled up, "It begins…"

There lies the task of slaying a godlike beast and stopping a corrupted army's advance on a foreign land, not quite different from what I was accustomed to. It was quite simpler in Drangleic, everyone was drawn to a Greater Soul, and only the strongest who can best them are worthy to drink of their essence. It is an endless, boring, and very bleak cycle that I am grateful to be rid of.

"Correction." Aedan interjects, hoisting himself up to his horse, "It ends here…"

"One way or another, yes."

 **}!{**


	12. Skirmish at Redcliffe

**}!{**

The distant roll of thunder brought with it a warning.

It wasn't just the storm approaching, the rain or its unleashed gale winds. It was the hail, and it was coming in fast. I may sound like I'm delivering a metaphor, but there's a real storm coming, and I'm not just talking about the darkspawn horde rampaging through Redcliffe.

"Town's under attack!" Alistair yells, jumping off his mount immediately and brandishing his sword.

"We can see that, your highness." I answered, spurring my own horse forward and into the thick of the battle. "It may have been wise if you decided to bring in the whole collection of your allies, Warden!" I yelled, "This horde looks bigger than I'm used to!"

Then again, it may have been wiser still that the Warden brought as little companions as possible, down to a number of four including me. We were faster that way, and Aedan didn't need to spell it out so he kept silent.

I leaned out low enough for my thorned mace to strike at the hurlocs as my mount galloped past them, the momentum was strong enough to smash the hardiest of helms, and I added to the river of blood flowing through the streets of the city.

The rains came, as did the hail. But fate seemed to favor us, for the ice shards rained heavily on the darkspawn horde, which bore no shields to protect themselves from the deadly shower of ice and fire.

The guardsmen let the hail do its work, withdrawing to the main barricade in front of Eamon's castle with the rest of the survivors.

We had come too late. The townsfolk had either scattered to the winds, or adorned the spires the darkspawn had put up or littered the streets with their corpses alongside the slain defenders.

Still, this did not sway us from pushing towards the objective.

I led the charge inward, since I had no fear of dying to the unholy swarm, forcing my horse to ride hard without pause towards the bulk of the darkspawn force. This meant the death of my mount, but I didn't care, I needed to be in the thick of it!

And that's exactly where I found myself in the next instant. Five spears were thrusted forward, impaling themselves on my horse and killing the animal instantly. Rolling off my saddle, I drew my sword and started hacking my way through the hurlocs towards the square.

The close proximity of the enemy was well enough an advantage on my part, I revelled in the glorious carnage, inflicting terrible pain on the enemy as I stubbornly held my ground.

My armor was growing heavy as blood and pieces of corrupted flesh clung to me like little guppies in a pond, and I found my movement growing sluggish as the moments stretched on. But I fought through the inconveniences, parrying strikes with my sword and striking back with the wicked thorn mace.

Skulls broke against the heavy metal club, and flimsy darkspawn patch armor fell away as nothing. Before long, the majority of the horde's attention was diverted to me, seeing as how I left too heavy a body count in my wake to be ignored.

Aedan wanted to come to my aid, but I wouldn't let him.

"Go!" I roared above the noise, "Speaking with the Arl is your primary concern! I'll draw the darkspawn's attention!"

Aedan hesitated a bit, but then remembered this was what I did best. And there was little cause for him to worry about my fate. If I die, I'll just come back and have at it again.

With the path cleared, the Warden makes his way to Eamon's castle with Alistair at his side. Sten, the Qunari giant whom Aedan chose to accompany our smaller band, shared my decision to hold back the tide.

He did not speak a word to me, nor I to him, and we preferred it that way.

Also, there was Loki to keep things lighthearted should the need arise. The elder gent was horrified, to say the least, about the state of things in the city. But he has seen it all before, in Lothering, so the shock wore off quickly.

"Well, got my wish about taking the fight to the darkspawn." He remarked, "Can't say I'm happy about it, though."

"Stand ready now!" I yelled out in warning, "Here comes another wave!"

The bestial din emphasizes the impending danger, bringing the remaining guardsmen together in a tight curved line within the barricade. I switched from mace to shield, bringing up my sword to cast a bolt of lightning on the advancing horde. I might as well be striking at water, for our efforts did little to stem the flow, it only succeeded in drawing in more darkspawn.

Surprisingly, the barricade held true, for what we lacked in swords we made up with excellent archers. The marksmen chose their targets carefully, most aiming for the spellcasting darkspawn emissaries and hurloc alphas.

Since I acted as the spearhead of the formation, it falls to me to meet the brunt of the attack. The encounter was not without its fair share of injuries, of course. I took a shaft in the shoulder, and a serrated blade managed to pierce my armor, wounding me just below the left nipple.

It took a while, but the poison worked steadily up my system, slowing my swings to a crawl. Fortunately for me, Loki saw that I wasn't faring as well as I should have been, and moved to my aid.

The old man worked faster than his age suggested, hacking down the genlock imps with great precision and grace. I was a warrior of balanced brute strength and careful calculation, Old Man Locketti seemed to master the latter better than I did.

"Don't push yourself too hard, Vandhal." He said as he pulled me away from the barricade, dragging me up the stairs and setting me up against a nearby pillar. A healer comes at his beckoning, but I push her away.

"Take me back to the thick of it!" I growled, stubbornly hoisting myself up using the pillar as a prop.

"That'll mean the death of you!"

Not everyone knew of my secret, and it's best if I kept it that way. However, there's no denying that I needed those souls for my body to repair itself. "Then so be it! Now make yourself useful and take me back!" I demanded.

A distinct roar echoes above the collected cacophany of the darkspawns rampaging through the bloodied streets. "Ogre! Get down!" Came the cry of surprise.

The massive twelve-foot tall beast bellowed once more, then stomped his way to an increasing pace until he broke into a run, heading straight for the castle. Arrows could not stop the monster, nor the barrage of spells shot out from the mages within our ranks, and the ogre breaks the barricade into splinters, opening a way for the maraudering band behind him to continue their horrible onslaught.

Their timing couldn't have been better, for I was about to start my own.

Recalling the most powerful of my hexes, I summoned the souls still smoldering within the corpses around us. Darkspawn or human, both collapsed in on themselves and set the whole courtyard ablaze with spiritfire!

That was enough to send the ogre staggering, whereas the lesser darkspawn did not survive the explosion.

Though weakened from the poison, I managed to gather enough strength to heft my spear onto one hand and send it sailing towards the disoriented monster. It buried itself inside the ogre's throat, sending a fountain of black corrupted ichor flowing to join the pool beneath his feet.

Seeing the monster still standing, Sten lifted his axe and lopped off the giant's head with one heavy swing of his weapon.

With a gurgle and a shudder, the ogre fell and shook the earth one last time before it remained still.

Breathing heavily, I took off my bloodied helm and wiped the sweat off my brow. "I believe I've bought you some time, old friend." I told Loki, wincing as my injuries bit at me as I sat down. "Make good use of it."

Loki nodded, turning to the guardsmen. "Come on now, where the hell are those ballistae? I asked for those six damned hours ago! Hop to!"

* * *

Once I had rested, and consumed whatever souls were left on the field of battle, I entered the castle to look for Aedan.

"You missed a good fight, Warden." I told him, finding him alone in the dining hall with his mabari hound and Alistair. "But I suppose, I did tell you to speak with the Arl. My mistake…"

"You look a little rundown." Alistair offered me a glass of wine, "Have a sip, it'll do you good."

At this point, I wouldn't care for the taste of such indulgences, so I accepted the would-be-king's offer. I drank deeply from the cup and wiped the excess with my left hand, "Thank you."

Riordan enters the hall after the three of us had relaxed and drank our fill of mead and ale. Alistair's swapping of stories ended as soon as we see the look on the elder Warden's face, it was of a tone most serious.

With reports of the whole darkspawn horde upon us and led by the Archdemon himself, how could things not be serious?

"Good, you are all here."

"Something the matter, sir?" I inquired.

"There is, and must be addressed quickly." He answered.

I got ready to leave, "Something tells me this is for soldiers of the Grey only, if so I must take my leave."

"No." Aedan beckoned, "Warden or no, you share this responsibility as much as Alistair and I, whatever it is. Please, stay, for it may concern you more than you can possibly know."

"As you wish." I sat back down.

Riordan began, "Tell me, do you three know how an Archdemon is slain?"

I shook my head as much as Aedan did, but Alistair is never without a quip as an answer. "You mean there's more to it than just, say, chopping off its head?"

"So it is true." Riordan concluded, "Duncan had not yet told you. I had simply assumed…Tell me, have you wondered why the Grey Wardens are needed to defeat the darkspawn?"

I hated the riddles. Why can't he just give it to us straight? "Something to do with the corruption?"

"The Archdemon may be slain as any darkspawn, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough." Riordan revealed, "The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal."

Then why fight at all? I frowned.

"But if the Archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden, its essence travels to the Warden instead."

"And…" Aedan asks hesitantly, "What happens to the Grey Warden?"

Riordan's gaze falters, "A darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel. But a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the Archdemon is destroyed, and so is the Warden."

"So whoever kills the Archdemon…" I concluded, "…dies as well."

"Yes." Riordan nods at my words, "Without the Archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way."

"So it's up to the three of us to kill this thing." Aedan echoes.

Riordan continued, "In Blights past, when the time came, the eldest of the Grey Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow. If possible, the final blow should be mine to make. I am the eldest, and the tain would not spare me much longer. But if I fail, the deed falls to you. The Blight must be stopped now, or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that."

Riordan then turns to leave the heavy thought upon us. Well, mostly upon Alistair and Aedan. Perhaps it was a bad idea letting me hear all of that, I've had enough letdowns to last two lifetimes.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so bad an idea to let me hear all of that.

A soul of an Old God. That's what got my attention.

"Aedan, a moment?" I asked once Alistair went off to his room to rest for the evening, leaving just the two of us in the dining hall. The Warden sets down another cup and pours me some more wine.

"Yes, what's on your mind?"

After composing myself for a bit, I revealed my plan. "I understand a Warden must be sacrificed to kill the Archdemon, and from the look in your eye I know you've already decided it will be you to do the deed. I can offer you something- of a little ace-up-your-sleeve nature."

Aedan gives me this quizzical look, "What are you talking about?"

I realized my plan may sound a little overrated, but not at all ridiculous. "Send me up against the Archdemon. Let me consume its soul, and nobody has to be sacrificed."

 **}!{**


	13. Blood for the Earth

**}!{**

"I never understood how your little…undying stunt works, Langerd."The answer was well enough justified, "Frankly, I really don't want to. But ramblings aside, you know this is serious, right?"

"I do not jest, Aedan." I frowned, showing that I took the matter as seriously as anyone, probably even more. "The truth is, I'm not just telling you this as a mere suggestion. It is what I want."

I repeated, "I want the soul of the Archdemon."

"Haven't you been listening to Riordan? Only a Warden can kill the damned thing!"

"A Warden with darkspawn taint running through his veins is no different from a Bearer of the Curse with undead blood flowing through him!" I argued, "The advantage is evident, Warden, don't you see? I cannot die, not really. If I do, I take the Archdemon down with me. What do you have to lose?"

"That's different! You may return from being chopped apart, rended, crushed and beaten, but this is a soul of an Old God for Maker's sake! How are you so sure that it will be any different?" Aedan shakes his head, "No, I cannot allow this! It is my duty both as Warden and Hero of Ferelden, I will slay the Archdemon."

He sounded pretty set on doing it. If circumstances weren't as dire as it seemed, I would've admired his stand on the matter. But this isn't one of those times.

I frowned, "Even more reason you should be the one who lives through this. You are a symbol for this nation, I am a little known knight of a dying world, there is no contesting of that fact. You've guided this land in more ways than a king or queen could. You die, and Ferelden loses its way and plunges into a dark age. Trust me on that, I know. There is enough honor left in me to know that this cannot be. With or without your permission, it will be my hand that will deliver the killing blow."

With that, I push myself off the table and strode for the door.

"You asked me what I have to lose if this doesn't work?" Aedan calls after me, "If you die, I lose a friend. And I've already lost so much, Langerd. Please, do not add to their number."

I sighed, turning heel to face him. Then I smiled, "I do not ask for you to mourn, not just yet, Warden. I ask you to place your faith in me, if nothing else."

He too sighed, but this one was of resignation. "We've known each other for a very short time. But I feel the bond only brothers can have between us. Do what you must, I will not stop you."

I walk to him and grasp his forearm, "Rest then, Warden, for tomorrow we tempt fate. And if your god does not fall short on his grace, this Blight will end within a day."

Aedan claps me on the shoulder, "Y'know, it's really hard to find that silver lining in your words. Lighten up, Langerd."

"This is as light as I can get." I answered, returning to my post outside the castle. Along the way, I bumped into Morrigan at the hall. She seemed to be waiting for someone.

"Greetings, corpse." She nodded, the greeting spoken with a mixture of spite and endearment. "Is the Warden available?"

I grunted and tilted my head in his direction as a response. I walked out of the hall, but did not leave the castle. Something whispers of ill intent in the room, and I can't help but follow instinct and linger on a bit longer. What was the witch up to?

"Morrigan?" Aedan asked, face all quizzical. "It's late, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"I am well, tis you who is in danger."

What's that about? I edged in closer to the door, careful not to alert the couple to my presence.

"I have a plan you see, a way out. The loop in your hole." Her heels clacked against the cobblestone floor as she nears the Warden, "I know what happens when the Archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed, and that sacrifice could be you. I have come to tell you that this does not need to be."

What, her too? I considered bursting in and stopping this plot, I brought the solution first! But then I stopped, knowing that this had to be the Warden's decision. If he chooses to hear her out, maybe even consider whatever she had to offer…Aedan knows what he's doing. I trust him to make the right choice.

"Speak plainly, what are you proposing?"

"A ritual, performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night." Morrigan continued, "It is old magic, from a time before the Circle of Magi was created. Some might call it blood magic, but I think that means little to one like you. What I propose is this…" I hear the Warden's bed squeak as the witch takes her seat, "Lay with me. Here, tonight. And from our joining, a child will be concieved. The child will bear the taint, and when the Archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The Archdemon is destroyed and no Grey Wardens will be lost in the process."

"So…" Aedan said, still processing the woman's proposition. "The child becomes a darkspawn?"

"Not at all. It will become something different, a child born with the soul of an Old God. After this is done, you will allow me to walk away…and you do not follow me- ever. The child will be mine to raise as I wish."

Well, she's made a more enticing offer than mine, I'll give her that much.

"Alright. I'll do it."

Damn you Aedan. I sighed quietly and listened in a little longer, stopping only when I hear the soft sound of clothes being discarded and the clatter of the Warden's armor falling to the floor.

Morrigan's moans of pleasure fill the hall as she and the Hero of Ferelden make love for what must be the last night they would have together. I make my way out of the castle, feeling slightly disappointed that Aedan backed out on me in favor of Morrigan's offer. But I suppose I can't really blame the boy. He probably was doing it to save my life, though I would be the last person on Thedas that needs saving.

Whatever the case, I can only hope it's worth it.

* * *

Morning has arrived. News travelled fast that the bulk of the invasion was moving south towards Denerim, back to the roads from which we came.

It was a good thing the Warden decided to backtrack to Redcliffe, else our reinforcements would've been few. It was urgent that we return to Denerim first thing in the morning to catch up with the darkspawn horde.

We already know that the Archdemon was personally leading them, opportunity now dawning the moment we heard it. But our force was too small to pose a real threat to the horde, for our allies were still on their way. Arl Eamon suggested a forced march, but still the fact remains.

We were too few.

The odds were yet again stacked against us, but the Warden and I have proven time and time again that it won't stop us. And this instance was no different.

As soon as morning came, we moved for Denerim.

I had forgotten how much I've missed the sound of an army marching. A hundred footsteps rivaling the thunder of the skies, a hundred men and women united in just cause, a hundred swords and spears ready to shed blood. Nothing stands its equal.

No wonder everyone on the battlefield bears the courage of a lion when one marches with his comrades. And yet just as easily, that same courage falters when all falls away.

This was why Alistair chose to ride at the vanguard so all can see him lead, and Aedan close at his heels for good measure.

There was no cavalry to accompany our meager force, so we stuck out like a sore thumb riding the way we did, especially me.

After that stunt I pulled defending Redcliffe from the darkspawn skirmish, the Fereldan soldiers took to calling me 'The Ashen Warlock', and the moniker stuck. I didn't hate it, nor did I like it, so I let it be. Maybe I should stop wearing gray all the time?

"I think red would look good on you." Leliana commented, almost as if she could read my mind. The archer and a band of mages traveling from the Circle Tower of the east had joined up with us, adding to our number and significantly increasing our odds of success. "Just a little something to contrast the grey palor of the mail. Ooh, maybe a scarf of crimson? Yes, that would-

"Perhaps, red does look good on everything." I answered, "And where we're going, there's going to be plenty of that."I look and see a disapproving scowl on the bard's face, "I appreciate the compliment though."

She kicked her horse forward and away from me.

I shrugged nonchalantly, "Or the attempt thereof."

"Quality save, just barely." Alistair chuckled.

"Your highness." I nodded in greeting.

"So what's the story with that?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"Oh don't be coy, you know what I'm talking about." Alistair gives me a knowing smirk, "Our bard fancies you, but what stops the mighty Langerd from returning the gesture?"

"Many things." I answered, a little annoyed with the would-be king nosing in on my business. "Though, I'd appreciate it greatly if we do not speak of it any further."

Alistair throws up his hands innocently, "Alright! Backing off."

The boy had a point, what was stopping me from indulging the archer? I had a lot on my plate, as anyone can understand, starting with aiding the Warden in his quest to free Ferelden from the Blight, and then there's my own quest of hunting down the source of the Pursuer's summoning. To top it all off, Thedas' revered prophetess Andraste tossing a demand my way to seek out her lost descendant- if that's what she actually meant by 'one of my blood'.

Won't I squeeze in some time for a romantic entanglement?

No. Not at all.

All my focus shall be directed to finishing my tasks. Leliana will move on, eventually, ceasing her it flatters me, I truly wish she would take the hint sooner and leave me alone.

I paused in my musings when a familiar cry echoes across the ravine we were traversing on. It was the same bestial cry the Archdemon was making in my dreams, it's not easy to forget something like that.

We were close now to Denerim, and judging from the mutilated bodies of the slain left in the horde's wake, I'd say we were just in a nick of time. The darkspawn had broken through the walls of the city, desperate to put a quick end to the three-day seige.

The defending force was handling itself, just barely. Everyone knew there was no time to stand on ceremony, we had to act now.

Alistair dismounted, walked over to the front to deliver a parting speech before giving the command to charge. I had forgotten that the courage of these people was flimsy as the armor they wore, always in need of words from their commander to boost morale.

It was different, as I remember, for Heide soldiers. There were no speeches to be made, for there was no need for them. Everyone knew their duty. But of course, this is the world of Thedas, it doesn't work that way.

"Before us stands the might of the darkspawn horde!" Alistair cried out, voice high like the screech of the hawk, but never falling short of its purpose. "Gaze upon them now, but fear them not!"

"Here stands a man, born of Fereldan!" He referred to Aedan, "Raised to the ranks of the Grey Wardens! And never before has there been a more glorious Warden! He survived despite the odds, an without him, none of us would be here! Today, we save Denerim! Today we avenge the death of my brother,King Cailan! But most of all, we show the Grey Wardens that we remember and honor their sacrifice!"

I nodded and beat my chestplate, "For Ferelden, for the Grey Wardens!"

The army before us swells with pride and repeats my words, "For Ferelden! For the Grey Wardens!"

I led the vanguard on horseback, sword in one hand and shield in the other. With the steep dive of the hill, the soldiers at my back had no trouble keeping up with my steed, and together we charge for the unsuspecting monstrosities below.

Not far from our formation was Aedan and the would-be king himself, a hundred mabari hounds at their heels. They didn't call Fereldans 'dog-lords' for nothing.

"Blood for the earth!" I invoked the drangleican death offering as I smashed through the darkspawn formation, knocking the first line back as the soldiers following close allowed the momentum to carry them forward.

In the heat of contest, the Fereldan soldiers echoed my words like a mantra. "Blood for the earth!" Ichor splashes over our boots and mingles with the dust beneath our heels.

My brow arches at the response, but soon found that it drove them to fight harder, so I continued. "Blood for the sky!"

Heads roll as an axe-wielding champion of the Dragon's Peak bannorn swings his heavy weapon around, flinging a shower of bright red through the air. "Blood for the sky!"

"Bleed for us!" I cried as my mount was slain beneath me, jumping off my saddle so I could join the others in the clash below. "For all that bleeds may die!"

All around us, the noise of steel upon steel and the crash of body against body formed the drums, the cacophany our choir and instrument of the grim song.

"Blood for the earth, blood for the sky! Bleed for us, for all that bleeds may die!"

Though a majority of the darkspawn lacked the basic intellect required to adapt to situations, they had the horde mentality of looking to their alphas for guidance. When the hurloc generals saw us shattering their ranks upon the first charge, they immediately had their troops fall back inwards like the waves when hit by a stone- then swallowed us in for a counterattack.

It was an ingenius and very effective manuever, since they possesed the numbers that the Fereldan army was sorely lacking.

Casualties were low at the start of this battle, though I was not at all optimistic that it will remain that way, the Fereldans thought differently. There was an evident swell in their morale upon seeing that the monsters can be slain as any man, even more so when they see their heroes fighting alongside them.

Suddenly, my head jerks back as something hits me in the face, I feel a searing pain as I lose vision in my left eye. Daring to turn my right eye's gaze inward, I see the bloody shaft of a crossbow bolt sticking out of my left socket!

With an agonizing injury like that, it was hard to focus on the battle around me. No matter how hard I tried, the pain weakened my knees, leaving me vulnerable to further wounds by the hurlocs surrounding me.

"Langerd!"

Several arrows whistle by my head, impaling themselves upon a genlock alpha lumbering towards me. Leliana rushes to my side as Bon-bon leaps unto the darkspawn and tears at its throat.

I groan as I reach for the bolt in my eye and carefully extract the shaft from the bloody socket. It hurt worse pulling it out than when it got there. "Fuck!"

"Are you alright?" Leliana asked, pulling me out of the frey. Wynne saw us coming and prepared her hands to cast a healing spell.

The bard removes my helmet and winces as more blood suddenly spurts out from the wound, staining her leather cuirass. "I'm fine, just close it up. We're almost through the gates, and I don't want to miss anything." Wynne obliges, putting a hand over the empty socket and saturating it with a green glow.

A distinct roar causes everyone's attention to snap upwards for a moment, and the Archdemon glides over the battlefield, its murderous eyes searching for victims to snatch in its jaws.

Aedan rides onward, shattering the enemy's resolve when he, Riordan and the mounted knights rode down the darkspawn and forced them to break away and scatter. "Into the breach, quickly!" He shouted at the footmen around him, "Before they regroup!"

Wynne had finished restoring my sight, and I was back in action. Bon-bon howled and bounded joyously upon seeing me recover. I smiled and ruffled the top of his head, "Come on, the Warden's getting excited."

The Fereldan vanguard was exhausted, so the push into the city was largely spearheaded by the dwarven reinforcements Aedan had gathered in the underground city of Orzammar. Some time before I had met him on that mountain, the Warden had gained their support.

The dwarves were noticeably similar to the Gyrm nomads back on Drangleic. I found myself wondering if they weren't reduced to the wanderers they were today, would the Gyrm people be as prosperous as the dwarves?

Musings aside, the dwarves did not fall short in battle when it came to strength- no pun intended. Even if they were half the size of the darkspawn, they carried themselves with twice the power in terms of weapon handling and thrice the tenacity.

Oghren, another friend of Aedan whom I never got the chance to know better, rallied his people through the breach and into the burning streets of Denerim. There, another contingent of hurlocks awaits us, and as soon as we step through the threshold, they swarm over us like locusts.

Arrows rain down on us, but the dwarven shieldbearers have dealt with this attack many times over. Their shields stacked up together, forming a protective wall to cover our advance. "Spears!" Oghren yelled, and a hundred lances stick out between the shields upon his command.

Like a spiked tortoise, the dwarves soak up the enemy fire and impaled the darkspawn soldiers foolish enough to get close.

"Ah, nothing like a good stroll through the city's streets!" Alistair quipped, head lowered so he can fit better inside the shieldwall. "As long as you don't slip on the blood, the guts and the brains on the cobblestones."

"Some people consider that sight a work of art." I commented, recalling my encounters with the mad virtuosos of Jugo. Those creatures were worse than monsters, lending their hands to do the work of demons, twisting flesh and bone in their crazed pursuit of expressing 'the beauty in death'.

"What?"

"Nothing." I muttered, readying myself as Oghren gave the command to charge. Again, my place would be in the thick of it. There is no other place for me to go, not then and certainly not now.

When the patter of arrows against their shields stopped, the dwarves move aside for the footmen to surge forward. Loki lead his men through what was left of the elven Alienage while Riordan and the other two Wardens moved towards the Chantry.

A little over a week ago, I stood in these same streets, admiring the beauty of the city's gardens and the majestic fountains around every corner- signifying a prosperous community.

Now, those gardens were up in flames, their flowers and rosebushes trampled upon by fleeing townsfolk and pursuing darkspawn. No longer did the fountains spew its crystalline waters, but an ugly mixture of bile, ichor and darkspawn blood.

It all comes back again.

Old memories, those that managed to seep into the cracks of my ailing mind, resurfaced as I gazed upon the mass of bodies lying around me. Men, women and children- whether man or elf…

They deserved better.

"We're doing better than I hoped." Riordan calls for the heroes to gather, me among them. "Though I'd wish it would stay that way."

"Bloody nug-runners!" Oghren declared gruffly, "We're outnumbered three to one!"

"What now? You have a plan, I assume?" I said, wiping the blood off my sword.

"The army will not last long." He answered, "So we need to move quickly to reach the Archdemon. I suggest, Aedan, that you take no more than two with you and have the rest remain here to prevent more darkspawn from entering Denerim on our tails."

"How are we supposed to beat a flying dragon?" Aedan asks, mind set on the primary task.

"We're going to need a high point in the city- I'm thinking the top of Fort Drakon might work."

"The top of…" Alistair began incredulously, "You want to draw the dragon's attention?"

"We have little choice, though I warn you that as soon as we engage the beast, it will call on its generals to its aid." Riordan said, "I can sense two generals here in Denerim, you may want to seek them out before heading to Fort Drakon."

"I may have a solution to speed things up." I suggested, " I can take a contingent for a quick sweep down the west side of the city while the Warden takes the east. Once we work our way through the darkspawn and slay the generals, all we have left to do is take down the Archdemon and end this Blight."

None of the others knew what me and Aedan had planned that night at Redcliffe. I guess he didn't want to cause any unnecessary concern. But for whatever reason, I'd prefer his decision to keep quiet about it.

"Good idea." Aedan nods in approval, "Riordan, I will take Leliana and Alistair to the east. Sten will lead the others here to keep the enemy from reinforcing their comrades in the city. Good luck, I'll see you when it's over."

"Maker be with you, Warden." Riordan shook his hand.

"Now." I turned to my friend, "Time to say your farewells." He and I understood there was a chance this battle might end badly, it would be regrettable to leave anything unsaid.

"Langerd, there's something that I must tell you." He began.

"I know, Warden." I stopped him, "I know. What you've done, with Morrigan at Redcliffe, I know you did it for a number of reasons- all of them good and justified. I cannot blame you for it- hell, you certainly don't regret it. Whatever it takes to save this land, with as little cost as possible, do what you must."

Aedan blinks at my words, surprise making itself known as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Then, relief washes in. He reaches forward and takes my forearm, "Thank you, my friend. It does me well to know you stand at my side today."

I nodded, "I will still be there when the Old God falls, mind you. If I cannot have its soul, I will at least witness its death."

Once that was said and done, I left the Warden to speak with the rest of the heroes and walked back to Loki, who was waiting alongside the hundred swords of Dragon's Peak. Bon-bon whined and trotted alongside me, begging to accompany me on the westside attack.

I knelt and held the wolf by the ears, gently massaging the areas behind his head. "Stay. Watch over Morrigan and the others."

Bon-bon pushed against my hands and lapped at my face with his warm pink tongue. He smelled of death, having felled many darkspawn hurlocks this day, but I welcomed it nonetheless. "That's a good boy."

Leliana seizes the opportunity to speak when all others were out of earshot, "Langerd, do you have a moment?"

"Before the next battle, of course." I nodded, bracing myself for the sentimental talk. In truth, it made me very uncomfortable. But I will allow her this chance. "What is it?"

"I know things have been tense between the two of us. But I want you to know I have your back out there. Please, take care of yourself."

"I live, I die, I live again." I raised a finger at her, "It is you I will be keeping an eye on. Do not die before this battle is over, hear me?"

She nodded.

"Good, make use of the bow I gave you." I said, donning my helmet and turning to Loki. "Come on, old man, the hunt is on."

 **}!{**


	14. Blood for the Sky

**Sorry for the slow updates guys.**

 **I'm targeted in the PM section by a bunch of guys harassing me about my fanfic ideas, telling me I'm trash and everything. To be honest, it's got me down a bit, hence the delays. Sorry, I'm a sensitive soul :(**

 **But I got a quote from an anonymous philosopher ( God bless whoever he or she is ) and it goes something like this: "In a world where everyone else sees only numbers, a series of 1's and 2's, there's always the unique little zero in between which everyone else ignores.**

 **These are people with great minds- the visionaries, the dreamers, and the inspired. They provide the vibrant colors in a black and white world.**

 **So don't let the 1's or 2's tell you otherwise, you are special. For without the zeroes, there is nothing to link the numbers."**

 **If people put you down for being different or just plain harassing you just for the hell of it, write this down or carve it into a wooden placard and nail it to your wall.**

 **I mean, how else can 10 be without a zero in it, right?**

 **}!{**

"Die where you stand!"

My sword cleaves through the hurlock's general's armor and tears at its flesh. It keeps going past the shoulder and into the fifth rib, then it stops. The creature groans in agony as I attempted to wrest my weapon from its wound.

Another lesser hurlock comes to its aid, so to defend myself I let go of the general- sword still inside its chest- and draw out my mace. The hurlock's head caves in like a crushed grape upon impact. "Ashen Warlock! There's more!"

I heed the early warning of the Fereldan footman and quickly extract my blade from the fallen general, "Fall back into the drawbridge and regroup!" I called, and the men scramble over the pile of bodies that covered the streets to obey my command. Our archer slowed the reinforcements enough to provide a much needed respite for the exhausted troops. The bottles of stamina-recovering concoctions were passed around, and I gave a few words of encouragement to strengthen their resolve.

"Listen up! I'm not a man of speeches, so don't expect me to repeat these words. The darkspawn had just lost one of their generals- you've seen it firsthand! Remember they too are mortal creatures, and are thus not immune to death's touch!" I pointed at the tower above Fort Drakon, "See that? They will fight more desperately now, but we are closer to victory than you think! You all know your duty, let's just finish this and go home!"

Home. Hope springs to life in their eyes upon hearing the word. Many of them are fathers, brothers and sons to families all over the ravaged land. That is what they are fighting for, not for the land, not for the would-be king Alistair- but for their homes and the familes that dwell within. What greater cause is there than to fight for those you love? I may not have had a good speech, but I think I got my message across just fine. "Push for all you're fucking worth boys!"

The Fereldans roared with renewed enthusiasm, meeting the darkspawn in a head-on collision, shields raised to knock aside the clueless monsters. Slashing, hacking, pushing and cursing their way forward, we reached the threshold of Fort Drakon faster than expected. It was a good run, and worth the losses when we gained the fortress gates. Once inside, though, I couldn't say the same for Aedan's contingent. Whereas Loketti and I had little trouble tearing through the darkspawn horde, it seemed that the bulk of the enemy fighting force was along the east side of Denerim- opposite of the path I took. All that was left of the hundred or so men with the Warden was a handful of ten and twenty of the dwarven shieldmasters.

It would've been a disaster if Aedan hadn't succeeded in taking down the hurlock general on his side. Thankfully, he did.

"What's next?" I heaved, grunting slightly as I yanked out an arrow stuck to my stomach.

The Warden points at the top of the castle, where the leader of the horde calls forth its challenge. "The Archdemon! Come on, we kill it and end this Blight!"

"Loki, make your stand here and keep the darkspawn off our backs." I told the old man, breaking off into a run with the party in tow. Fueled by the soul furnace, I plowed through the hurlocs guarding the staircase leading to the upper levels, clearing the path for the Warden to move up.

Whether the brutality of my methods unnerved them or not, I didn't care in the least. My mind was just along for the ride, eyes watching as my body moves on its own. I was a fucking meat grinder for a full bloody hour.

* * *

"Out of my way!" I roared, bashing a hurloc aside with my shield and kicking the iron gate open. The great beast was just about finishing off an unfortunate Fereldan soldier when we arrived on the scene. The corrupted god turned its baleful eyes in my direction, its gaze piercing through me.

For a moment, my will faltered as the Archdemon read my thoughts. But I steeled myself and charged headlong into the frey. Aedan doesn't hesitate, and comes after me.

"I'm here, come at me!" I yelled, getting in range and burying my blade through the Archdemon's front leg. It was easier piercing through the hide of the dragon atop the Frostback mountains, but it proved a bit difficult when it came to this one. The hide was made of chitin harder than iron, and my blade just bounced off harmlessly, earning myself the attention I so craved.

The Archdemon answers by swatting me aside nonchalantly, rearing back its head before bathing my friends in one mouthful of flame. Wynne shields the party with a protective spell, Leliana fires arrows from a distance- same results, they don't pierce through that hide.

Quickly, I scan the ramparts of the castletop, spying several ballista at very strategic points. "Leliana! The ballistae, use the ballistae! I'll draw the Archdemon in!" My plan was easy to figure out, and the archer gets to work.

I fired three soul arrows from my free hand, striking the dragon in the snout, succeeding in angering the beast. The Archdemon stomps towards me, and that was when a five-foot long shaft sails through the air and lands heavily against its side.

The thicker the hide, the bigger the arrow.

The Archdemon screams in pain and flaps its wings to give it the aerial advantage. Quickly moving to the next ballista, Leliana prepares to fire again. Unfortunately, the narrow-visioned dragon focused its attention on the archer, seeing her as the immediate threat and moves in for the kill.

"Leliana, look out!" Aedan warns.

The archer moves away just in a nick of time, and the fire spewed from the dragon's mouth passes harmlessly over her head. Switching to lightning, I channeled an arc in my hands and set it over like a net over the monster as it passes by.

The Archdemon does not flee the battle, dodging my attacks as it circles the castle, breathing fire on us all the while.

"We have to bring it down to our level!" Aedan says.

"Agreed!" I answered, "I may just have the hexes required for that venture." I dug deeper into my knowledge of hexes, selecting a few soul-seeking dark orbs to utilize for the fight. The orbs home in on their target no matter how fast the Archdemon could fly. There was no escape, and without its generals to defend it, it was alone in this battle.

Left with little choice, it descends once more and faces us with talons and teeth at the ready. I stick to hexes, knowing that my blade won't do any good against its natural armor. But then I realized there was a way to warp that hide, perhaps soften it up a bit so that the Warden's weapons could penetrate it.

I was thrown about like a rag doll as I engaged the dragon, rising each time to have another go. The Archdemon lashes out, talons ripping though my armor and opening more wounds on my body than when I faced the manikins of the Baleful Queen.

The Warden, more or less, got minor scratches every now and then. He owed it to the enchantments on his armor and shield. Or perhaps, there was some magical properties the dragon-tail possessed that I missed?

Suddenly, Aedan manages to stick his blade deep enough to cause a grievous wound upon the dragon's neck! This was a good sign, and I closed in to bring down the Archdemon for the Warden to kill.

In desperation, the Archdemon backs off, snapping at any that got close. Its jaws clamped down on my shield, and I held it there. "Aedan, now!" With a loud warcry, the Warden leaps onto the Archdemon's head just as its left hindleg slips off the edge of the rampart. He buries his sword through the monster's skull, but loses his balance as the Archdemon rears its head once more. The beast falls from the castletop, and Aedan followed. Quickly, I drop my shield and rush to the edge, grabbing onto the Warden's ankle in one swift motion.

"Gotcha!" I grunted, marvelling at how heavy he was. A loud and very dull crash reaches my ears, and I look beyond the Warden to see the fallen Archdemon, smashed against the cobblestone courtyard below.

As I pulled my friend back up to safe ground, I was startled to see a bright beam of light shoot from the Old God's corpse and tear a hole through the darkened skies. Soon, the darkness lifts, mirroring the turn of events that happened this day.

My chest was heaving, and though I would relish the feeling of having a powerful soul within me, I knew it was better for Morrigan to conceive a child reborn of a god's soul, absent the taint. "Congratulations." I quipped at Aedan, helping him stand. "You're a father now." My friend smiles weakly, exhausted after a full day of battle.

A cheer breaks out from the Fereldans and their allies all across the ruined city. The darkspawn were on the run, seeing their leader fall, and with it their reason for the Blight. "That won't be the last we will see of them." I wheezed, the toll of my wounds finally making itself known.

I coughed up a large amount of blood, and my weakened knees refused to hold me up. I would've fallen if Leliana hadn't caught me and set me down. Wynne moves to my side and holds her hands over me, bathing my wounds with holy light. The Archdemon is dead, Ferelden is safe from the Blight at last…yet my work is not done. The smile fades from my lips as I realized the path I walk is long, and there won't be any time for celebration.

Once we descended the way we came, stepping over twitching corpses of man and darkspawn, and as the crowd gathers to greet their heroes, I slip away from Leliana's arms and disappeared into the mass of bodies pressing close. Turning my gaze back when I had taken twenty paces away from the party, I could see the bewildered look in her eyes as they flitted from one person to the next. I heard her calling my name, bewilderment slowly turning to anxiety, and I resisted the urge to return.

Sighing in resignation, I followed the bloodied and empty street leading to the south gate, leaving Denerim for good.

 **}!{**


	15. The Black City

**A/N**

 **Sooo…this would make my third apology.**

 **Damn, I'm such an idiot.**

 **I guess all I needed was a little push from you guys, I'm really sorry about my initial decision to take this fic down. I decided against that now, and I'm determined to get this done right.**

 **To tell the truth, I'm still fumbling in the dark with this, but at least I'm still walking on solid ground ( not my best metaphor ). Please bear with me, I'm really embarassed hehe**

 **Anywhoo, let's just see where this goes.**

 **}!{**

I told them I didn't have time for this.

"No! No! Please-

A sickening crunch follows as the mace pops the lad's skull open like an overripe tomato. I grunt as I extracted the weapon, spitting the blood from my lip where his boot struck me. Another band of marauders had the misfortune to cross my path today, the sixth in only two days.

I keep telling them the same thing, "I don't have the fucking time for this."

They never listen, they're the kind who lacks perception, like who to rob and not to rob. Their final lesson, as it would seem, death by my hand. Treading onwards, I follow the treaded ground of the forest, leading into the main roads of the Imperial Highway.

My mind was like a heavy rain cloud, darkened with thoughts of the friends I left behind. It's not that I didn't enjoy the feeling of camaraderie and fellowship, I just…I guess my desire to remain alone is still there.

The road to Orlais transisted from dusty and rocked-flecked to cobblestone. The Orlesians held themselves above the common people that is their neighbors- the Fereldans, hence the need for better roads.

The rains paid little heed to the works of men, however, washing down bridges and spreading thick muck all over the cobblestones, making it difficult to cross the country. Seeing that the rains would not cease their downpour, and disheartened to continue any further, I chose to take shelter within an abandoned shack in the woods.

Soon, I was huddled next to the small bonfire I've prepared amongst the dried ashes of a cooking pit. Here, I spent the night, weary mind wandering as time flitted by unnoticed. I found myself questioning the reasons behind why I ever bothered to take the Prophetess up on her offer. She spoke of a cure for my curse, yet the mere mention of it invokes doubt. Andraste may have given an empty promise- there is no cure for undeath.

I knew this, so why am I still acting as her lackey?

A faint howl interrupts my thoughts, and I raise my head to the open door of the shack. Three dark glyphs appeared on the ground outside, a void gate opened, releasing three warriors dressed in bone-white Darkwraith armor. Like the Pursuer, I knew they've come for me.

There's nothing special about me, not really. It's just the nature of the darksign to call misfortune in all its forms. I rose and drew my sword, dipping its tip into the flames of the firepit to enwreathe my weapon in flames. I then placed my shield at my back so they cannot kill me from there and turned to face my enemies.

With howls sure to shatter any mere man's resolve, the Darkwraith knights converged on all sides. Sparks flew as my geisteel meets bradden steel, and for a moment, we strain against each other in that lockhold. I didn't dwell on one opponent, knowing there were three of them against me, and moved aside as the second's blade strikes my right pauldron. Quickly, I slid across the muddy ground, hacking across the first knight's legs as I dashed past him.

Geisteel cuts neatly through most metals, and this was no different. The knight's right leg departs from below the knee, and the Darkwraith collapses, howling in agony as his companions rushed to avenge him.

A flash of lightning overhead heralded the coming of a stronger downpour, and it became harder to see through the curtain that showered all around us. I parried and dove like an acrobat, desperate to keep the unearthly warriors from taking my soul.

As I fought the second, the third manages to get behind me and throws me off balance with a blast of hex-powered resonant souls. I land painfully against a nearby tree, which shatters on impact. Collecting myself, I regained my stance and watched warily for more hexing. When I see the Darkwraith fire another vortex of those swirling black orbs, I dove forward and channeled a sorcery of my own, feeling the ice sting my fingers as I formed a frost bolt in my hand, letting it sail through the air and finding satisfaction as it felled the knight in one throw.

The second turned his gaze to both fallen comrades, the dead third and the incapacitated first. He then glared at me through those haunting black holes of his skull helm and stretches his arms outward, drawing the darkness from his companions.

I knew what was going to happen, I had seen too many of their kind do the same, so I rushed forward with my sword raised and attempted to strike him where he stood. I was unsuccessful, and I was thrown backwards as the resulting merging sent a burst of darkness outwards. The Darkwraith, now a towering giant with three conjoined heads and an ultra greatsword on hand, made the the earth tremble as it barreled towards me.

I just about enough time to roll to the side until I get my feet under me. All thoughts of facing off against the monster were discarded, I again found myself in a desperate position, greatly tempted to abandon this venture and flee.

I steeled myself there and then, reminding myself that I had faced worse monsters than this. With that in mind, I met the Darkwraith's charge and drove my sword through its stomach. But, the instant I pierce the Darkwraith's armor, darkness bursts out from the wound like a torrent of poison gas and ate away at my insides.

I feel my strength wane as the darksign welcomes the mist, and I stagger backwards, completely exposed to attack which the Darkwraith takes advantage of. I brace myself for impact and grimace in pain as the monster grabs me by the throat and lifts me off the ground.

It then drives its greatsword through my belly, sending waves of overwhelming agony throughout my body! I felt my throat go raw from screaming, and I barely feel anything else as the monster slams me back down on the ground, planting its foot on me as it extracts its weapon.

I taste blood in my mouth as it gushes up from my belly and into my throat, threatening to drown me. This wasn't the first time I died, nor would it be the last, but that won't stop me from putting up a fight before I am finished.

The Darkwraith, strangely, does not finish what it started. Instead, it watches with all six of those haunting eyes as I bleed out.

No matter how much I try to convince myself, the desire to live was still there. I didn't want to die, not like this…

"Andraste…" I coughed, "If you can hear me…please…help me…"

My vision dims, and before I succumb to my wounds, I see a flash of light tear a gaping hole through the sky and slams down against the Darkwraith, burning both armor and darkness away in one strike, reducing the servant of the Abyss to ashes.

To tell the truth, that was the first time someone from on high actually listened to my prayer. "Thank..you…"

Then, as I was about to give myself over to nothingness, I saw a portal open beneath me. It swallowed me whole, and I took the long plunge into the unknown. Whether this portal takes me to where I must go or not, I didn't care. As long as it was far away, and beyond the reach of the dark forces trying to wipe me from the face of the earth.

* * *

" **I forbid you to die, brave undead."** A majestic voice booms, bidding me rise from the hard cold floor of the god's palace. **"Yet, you defy this simple command?"**

I sat up wearily and gaze directly into the flaming visage of the Maker himself, "Forgive me for saying so, but you don't know a damn thing about the word."

" **You even dare to speak haughtily, here in my sanctuary?"**

"Save that talk for the pious and the weak. You don't scare me." I said, unfazed by the vengeful god's threatening voice. "If you've brought me here to remind me of my task, you're not doing a very good job at it. Send in Andraste, her company's more desirable than yours."

His answer was a gout of holy flame that devoured a great half of my face and armor in one stroke, ruining the entire left side of my face and setting my body ablaze! I felt no pain from the Maker's act of spite, just anger fueling the soul furnace churning within my vessel. I drew my sword and closed the distance between me and the god, firing a barrage of souls that struck harmlessly against his gilded armor.

The divine retaliates with a burst of hallowed light, blinding me for a second as he drove his own blade through my stomach and out my back!

The blade, whatever it was made of, ate at the edges of my wound slowly as it remained impaled through my midsection, yet I still lived. "You think that will kill me?!" I challenged the Maker, "Don't flatter yourself, I've faced darker forces than you and lived to tell the tale!"

I conjured a heavy ball of darkness and hurled it at my assailant, surprised that such an elementary spell could have an effect on the god! Clearly, even the Maker fears the dark here.

Slowly, but surely, I push myself free from the Maker's weapon, enwreathing my own sword with darkness to even up the odds.

I ignored the heavy drench of my blood on the pristine floor, focusing all my attention on the god so much that my vision narrowed and I did not see the Prophetess walk in to the sanctuary.

" **Stop!"**

I glared at Andraste, but lowered my weapon when she glared back.

" **You do not fight the darkness here, Langerd. This is the realm of Light, do not stain what is holy for the sake of a petty squabble!"** She then turns and chides the Maker soundly, which brought me to question what kind of relationship did the two have for her to fearlessly do so. **"Maker, you who embody what is good and holy in this realm, you are above this anger. Need I remind you your one flaw shall be your ruin? Conquer it, repress it, do not let it overcome you lest all creation follow!"**

The Maker nods once and lays aside his bloody weapon.

Once the heat dies down, I feel myself grow weak and staggered backwards. I would've fallen had Andraste not caught me. Once she eased me down gently, she summons a cleansing light through a soft mellow song she sang that coaxed my wounds to heal themselves, even my armor started to grow together until no gaps nor ruined holes remained!

Once that was done, I stood up straight and addressed the reason to my summoning. "You've brought me here, why?"

" **You've questioned your purpose, now is the time for answers."** Andraste holds out her hand and bids a curious looking orb rise from the floor. From there, she reveals the world of Thedas and the curse-afflicted world of Drangleic, separated by a thinning veil that was Limbo. **"The planes are shifting Langerd. The same curse that has taken root in your world is coming for Thedas, but this is not by mere accident- it is orchestrated."**

"By whom?"

The orb shimmers, revealing that vision I had in the Fade. A valley of bones, an army of the dead and darkspawn, and the mysterious manifestation of darkness that was being rebirthed through the profane ritual. **"In the days when Thedas was at its infancy, the Golden City had been the home of many gods and goddesses. The Maker had yet been a young god when the Godstorm tore this citadel apart. Gods and goddesses fought each other for the Golden Throne, eyes narrowmindedly focused on becoming the True Primordial."**

"True Primordial? As in, the one true god?"

Andraste nods, **"The war lasted for a millennia, and thousands of gods died in the struggle, giving birth to the aspects of Pride, Desire and Rage that now roam the Fade today, their blood staining the Golden City until its walls had turned crimson black. Soon, only the Maker remained in the citadel."**

"Yet, he wasn't the only god left alive?"

" **My brother, your people called him Nahr Alma or the Great Dead One."** The Maker tells me, **"I knew him simply as the Destroyer. I slew him the day I took the Throne, but somehow he managed to cheat his way out of his own death- feeding on the souls passing through the Fade. He only grew stronger when he found your world, delighted in the results of his newest creation- the curse of undeath."**

This brings me to question everything I believed about the curse, its origin and the possibility of a cure. "That vision I had, was it merely a warning or a vision of what is to come?"

" **Both."** The Maker answered, **"The Destroyer embodies everything against creation; war, decay and darkness. He will stop at nothing to gain what he wants- to become the True Primordial, and therby plunging all realms in eternal darkness."**

"And what do you hope to accomplish by using me, an undead and a pawn of darkness, to battle such a threat?"

Andraste answers, **"Take away the affliction, and we have the man possessing both honor and steel-will to undertake the quest no other mortal can ever hope to see through. The Destroyer influences, but does not control you. The choice of being a pawn of darkness or light is up to you, though I would prefer you chose the latter over the former."**

I can name a few who can actually do what I can do, minus the curse. "But what is the quest? That is what I need to know most!"

The orb shimmers once more, revealing a girl child in her fifth year, wandering lost in amongst the ashes of a ruined village. Confused, I look at Andraste. "What is the meaning of this?"

" **In my life on Thedas, I had two daughters. One was taken from me at sea, but the other, a strong headed and stubborn child, fled her home with a Tevinter mage. From her, she begat many more children, all bearing my gift of Voice."**

"I don't understand. What Voice?"

" **The power to heal all wounds from song. This is why I sent you to find her, Langerd. When the Destroyer comes, and another Godstorm with him, not even I could heal the Maker's wounds on my own. You will find my descendant, raise her as your own and prepare for the day of reckoning. How you accomplish this, we leave at your discretion."**

Well, at least it's a bit clearer now. "Raise her as my own?" I was incredulous, "You'd think such a task would be that easy? I'm a knight, an undead who only knows how to kill!"

" **Enough!"** The Maker retorts, **"The god has spoken, and you shall heed his command!"**

A portal opens behind me in a flash. I glared at the Maker and the Prophetess before stepping through it. "Mark my words, Maker. If this errand proves to claim the lives of innocents to further your ill-gotten life, perhaps the Golden Throne ought to remain empty."

I leave the Black City through the portal and step into the land of Thedas once more.

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 **So uh… no promises, I hope this fic keeps going strong. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for your patience and support guys, really appreciate it despite this embarassing episode :)**


	16. The Free Marches Part One

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I stand upon the shores of Thedas, the swirling portal closing behind me. As I made my first step, I see a hand thrust out from the tear, bearing a green crystal flask that I immediately recognized as a bottle of estus!

" **Here, you will need this."**

"Thank you, prophetess." I take the flask out of Andraste's hands and the portal closes after her, leaving me alone to speculate on my current task. I had landed upon the shores close to the ruined village in the vision, where I would find the child I was to save.

Quickly, I made my way off the sands and into the ash-flecked streets of the ruins, pausing to examine the burned out shacks and buildings, the tracks in the dirt as well as the trail of dead.

I looked about, hearing the faint whimpers wafting through the wind. The child was close by, I knew it to be so.

Suddenly, I hear the whistle of some missile being thrown across the street, swiftly bringing up my shield to block a javelin in a nick of time. The missile shudders against the hoplon's thick hide, and I lower it a bit to see where it came from.

Tall albino giants with odd horns growing from their foreheads emerged from the courtyard, bearing longswords and spears fashioned in the design of the men of Jugo. I eyed them with contempt and drew my geisteel sword, readying myself for another battle.

"Vinek Kathas!" Yelled the leader, some sort of order to kill in their language. Curiously enough, it sounded very close to the tongue Sten used when I was yet in their company.

"Blood for the Earth!" I yell back, charging headlong into the frey, shield upraised to block the oncoming storm. The hoplong vibrates as many spears struck its surface, glancing off harmlessly and giving way for my wrath. Once I got close enough, I struck the first oxman and cleaved him from shoulder to side, spilling thick crimson to mingle with the ashes on the ground.

"Blood for the Sky!" I bashed the next with my shield and lopped his head off with one clean sweep, sending a torrent of blood gushing from his empty shoulders. "Bleed for us, for all that bleeds may die!"

A stray javelin strikes me on the left shin, hooking me into the ground as the marauders converged on all sides. I ignored the pain and crouched low, plucking the missile with an agonized grunt and returning to battle just as the oxmen slammed into me like a tidal wave!

I heave as the soul furnace grows stronger with each kill, turning the air around me heavy with its heat. Sweat beads sprout from my forehead, chest and neck, and I let loose an angry bellow as I unleashed the power of the furnace once it reached its full potential.

The marauders stagger back as blue flames ate at their exposed white skin, their screams fueling the madness of the moment, much to my delight. I gave in to the rage, seizing control of the moment and tearing the oxmen apart with greater ease than before.

Soon, I stood alone in the battlefield, drenched in the blood of my foes and violently shaking at the aftermath of my exertions. With a trembling hand, I reach for the estus flash hanging at my belt and drank deeply from the liquid fire stored within.

My wounds burned as the estus does its work, closing them up with each sip, restoring me to full health. "Fuck…" I gasped, "Been a long time since I've tasted estus!"

Once I made sure the oxmen posed no threat, I moved in the general direction of the sound of weeping. I found the child hiding inside a cabinet, within a burned down smithing shop. The moment I opened the cabinet, the child drove the pointed end of a dagger through my eye, bolting the first chance she got and disappeared through the broken door.

I groaned in annoyance, plucking the blade out of the bleeding socket and setting out after her. "Come back! I'm not going to hurt you!" I called out gruffly, catching sight of the orphan as she jumps off a ledge and into the soft wet sands of the beach below. It wasn't hard keeping eyes on her, for those silver locks of hers stuck out like a sore thumb.

The child does not halt to my words, frantically making for the shore with her wobbly little legs. She trips over a driftwood and lands painfully on her chest, knocking the breath out of her. The child picks herself up, but could not find the strength to run any further, so she sat down and cried- perhaps preparing herself for her end.

Knowing she was already frightened out of her wits after what happened to her village, I chose to tread gently so I would not be left with a broken girl to look after. I approached the sobbing orphan and thrust my sword onto the ground, carefully picking her tiny frame into my arms and trying my very best to be reassuring.

The child trembled at my touch and struggled to get away, but I held to her firmly, bringing her about to face me. "Please…" She whimpered, "Just leave me alone!"

"Child." A new voice in my throat spoke, calming her with each word. It sounded so alien to me, for I had gotten used to rough intonations that terrified anyone who conversed with me. "I'm not going to hurt you. I came here to protect you."

I knew better than to ask, but did anyway. "Where are your parents, little one?"

"T-They're…dead. The Qunari killed them."

I sighed, bringing up a hand to brush away the sand stuck to her cheeks. "I am sorry for your loss, but it isn't safe here. I will take you where the Qunari will never harm you again, will you allow me to do this?"

"Yes." She bobbed her head.

Satisfied, I stand and take her by the hand. "Then come, we have quite the journey ahead of us."

Suddenly, I hear that distinct whistle indicative of another incoming missile. Instinctively, I bring up my shield and crouch in front of the orphan just as a Qunari javelin slams and breaks through the hoplon's hide, impaling my arm in the process.

The oxmen raiders have returned, holding spears aloft and screaming obscenities in their own tongue. With the kind of savagery these ones possessed, it was hard for me to imagine Sten was of the same people.

I lift the girl up and carried her across the shore, ignoring the spears hurled all over my path. The girl screams in my arms and buries her face into my shoulder as a burly oxman hooks the barbed end of his axe and pulls me to face him. With that momentum, I managed to thrust my sword forward just as the axe flips me, killing the Qunari raider as it tore through the thin cloth armor on his chest and out his back.

The others were closing in fast, so I had little time to decide on fight or flight.

I chose the former over the latter.

Using the best sorcery I could utilize in situations like these, I conjured a Soul Shower, effectively bombarding the advancing horde and reducing them to a pile of blood, flesh-pulp and ash. Those that survived my counterattack suddenly hesitated, spears and swords pointed menacingly at me but faces regarding the swift death of their brothers with shock and awe.

That bit of magic took the breath out of me, but I didn't show it, remaining tall and unfazed in the eyes of the Qunari. When they saw I would not back down, they turned heel and walked away.

I decided against killing every single one of them, knowing I had a child to worry about now. The orphan ceased her wailings and looked around with wide, tear-stained eyes, "Is…Is it over?"

"Yes." I whispered softly in the girl's ear, voice hoarse from a dry throat. "Come, let us leave this place." The girl, once I've earned her trust, clings tightly to me as I walk into the safety of the main road.

"What's your name, little one?"

"R-Riven." She replies timidly. "Sorry I stabbed your eye."

I smiled at her apology, "Nice to meet you, Riven. I'm Langerd, and don't worry about the wound, it will heal itself in time." As the hours passed, I couldn't help but notice the faint rumbling in the girl's stomach. I had no need for the sustenance of food, but in her case it was essential. "Are you hungry?"

Riven bobbed her head in reply.

I peered across the tall trees, spotting the gates of a nearby city. A quick look at the map in my pack defines that location as Kirkwall. I scratched my head at the distance Andraste has placed me from Fereldan and Orlais, "Alright, city's not far from where we are. Let's see if we can get something from there, hopefully both food and shelter."

If I was to care for the girl, I knew I had to find a place to raise her- nothing safer than amongst the masses. I had no idea what kind of city Kirkwall was, but it's going to have to do for now.

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 **Trying my best to go strong with this, your reviews will help, thanks :)**


	17. The Free Marches Part Two

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I took one look at the eye within the reflection and dabbed at the dried blood encrusted around its lid with a damp cloth. Riven had aimed well with her dagger, and for a child as young as she was that was saying quite a lot about her potential to wield a blade. The wound, as I had thought would, healed and restored the ruined flesh once I drank the life-giving fluid from the estus flask.

Getting a warm meal for the child under my protection as well as a roof over our heads was a tough reward to earn. It started off when I approached the east gates of the city of Kirkwall, stopped at its threshold by a company of guardsmen. At first, I was turned away the same as the Fereldan refugees clamoring to gain entry. Fortunately, I learned a few things from the crafty Lanafir rogues I've traveled with in Drangleic, and I soon discovered a couple of smugglers willing to get me inside when the payment was right.

In my travels in this world, I had quickly learned the value of amassing the highest points of currency available- in Thedas' case, a coinpurse of 20 golden sovereigns.

I forgot where I picked up such a treasure, but at this point I didn't care enough to recall. Paying my way in, I saved enough from the bag to get a room in the dirty and crowded district of Lowtown.

Being in the city this past week brought back semblances of memories from my old home, Heide. It is, of course, a city submerged beneath the waves of the Forgotten Sea. But even then, traces of the past have a way of resurfacing, like a dim light in the fog-stricken mind of a hollowing undead.

Leaning backwards a bit, I examined the haggard-looking man staring back at me and decided it was time to trim that shock of unruly graying hair. So, taking a razor, I started shaving. First came the locks around my face, I cut those up until they were all equally an inch and a half long, same with the rest. Measuring the back portion was a hassle, but I got to it came the scraggly beard, which I did away with, rendering that thick forest to a smooth valley.

The end result was a man with a respectable appearance, worthy of being called a knight. I was even surprised to find him beneath all of that, chances of cleaning up like these being extremely rare.

With cleaning up done, I changed into a simple peasant's garb and set my armor within a wooden chest. I kept my sword close by as I laid out a blanket on the cold stone floor, opting to let Riven have the bed all to herself as she rested her exhausted little body.

I had forgotten how easily children tire out, and given the events of the day, Riven was no different.

I made sure she was well fed that night and given an extra blanket, noticing how cold the air was here in the city. While the child slept, I plucked out a faded book from the shelf in the room and began reading, more out of boredom than actual interest. It was a history book detailing the origin of the City of Chains, which used to be the Tevinter Imperium's nexus of trading, back before the slaves revolted and turned the surrounding provinces into what was known now as the Free Marches.

What I found interesting about it was the fact that Andraste herself led these men and women out of bondage, which shed some light on just what kind of woman she really was- obviously the kind the Maker would want to have at his side.

Thinking back, I wondered if I really stood a chance against the god had Andraste not intervened in time. The darkness was strong in me, we all knew it, but how far will that take me against the Lord of Light?

I banished all thoughts of the subject and kept on reading, opting to occupy my time with that little book as I kept watch over the girl.

As it turned out, Kirkwall changed hands more times than the little book cared to ellaborate. Qunari took the city for their own, Orlesians the next, then came the Kirkwallers as they demanded independence- though keeping the title of Viscount for their rulers.

Of all the information I gathered, I kept one close to mind. I had slipped into the centerhold of the Templar Order, which meant bad news for Riven should she display any affinity for magic. Though I could not understand this world's intolerance to mages, I remained wary of the things they do to magic-wielders and in the process kept a strong vigil over my charge. Andraste mentioned she had the gift of healing through her Voice, so I wondered if that was enough to make her a target.

This brought me to muse on that bit of revelation in the Black City.

As all stories go, it will come to a head, with the Maker and Destroyer battling for the right to rule as the True Primordial. It's a petty quarrel, in my opinion, but the gods' minds are beyond my comprehension- obviously.

Riven and Andraste will be there to heal his wounds. And with the child still at this age, it's going to take a great deal of time and work to prepare her for her role in that battle- a task that would require an even greater deal of mentoring skills on my part.

* * *

Hours passed, night slowly turned to morning, and my attention is drawn to the stirring frame nestled within warm blankets.

Riven sits up with a yawn and stretches her tiny limbs. As soon as she throws aside the covers, I prepare the chamberpot and turned to fix up a bath as she relieves herself. The wooden tub had been filled from the simple lavatory outlet, but was very cold to the touch. As much as it would amuse me to hear the child squeal in discomfort over the freezing bath, I dipped my hand into the waters and conjured a steady ball of flame to warm it up.

Once it was done, I called her over and picked up the large bar of soap. Riven steps out of her dress and climbs onto the tub obediently, I avert my eyes modestly and concentrated on getting her getting the dirt out of her silver hair. She giggles as the bubbles flick out and float in the air, slowly gathering up the foam to form a soap beard on my face. I ignored her and rinsed out those snowy locks.

Then, I rubbed my hands together and conjured a light and toned-down manifestation of a fireball to dry her shivering body, changing her back to her new pleasant green dress once that was finished.

"Would you like to go outside, Riven?" I asked, wiping that soap beard off my lips.

"Are you going to come with me?" She asks hesitantly.

"Of course." I reassured her, taking the key to our room and tying its cord around my neck. "I go wherever you go." I lock the door behind us, strapping on my sword before heading out with a firm hand on Riven's own as we explored Lowtown.

The air was thick with the stench of animal manure and strong spices as we entered the marketplace. Here, merchants traded in their stocks hailing from different provinces around Thedas, ranging from horses to the toughest works of steel. Riven, as I observed, was fascinated by swords, often spending hours watching the blacksmiths hang up their finished works on display or begging me with those pleading little green eyes for a blade of her own.

I, of course, knew this was not the time to teach her swordplay- if there would be such a time. For now, I would cultivate this relationship of guardian and child to the best of its potential, discover the talents of the orphan girl- and only then will I decide what to do with her. I mean, stabbing me in the eye was a start, but it will only go so far. And in matters concerning money, we had few to go on about. I knew I would have to find a steady job somewhere and soon.

Reluctantly, she follows the pull of my hand as I lead her away.

But a mewl from a nearby alley was too much for the youngling, and she stops to gaze curiously at that bundle of orange fur bounding excitedly on the street. Riven squeals with delight at the little critter attacking her feet, "Oh! A kitten!"

Eagerly, she picks it up and holds it close to her chest. "Langerd, can I keep him? Please?"

I didn't see the harm in it. From what I knew, cats were tidy creatures, so I wouldn't have to worry about cleaning after it. So I shrugged, "Why not? The room's getting lonely these days anyway."

Riven hugs the cat and skips along beside my leg as we continued onwards. Exiting the marketplace, we chanced upon the city's elven alienage, where a towering beautiful tree decorated with strange cultural paintings stood in the middle. I decided against entering the place, not because I hated the knife-eared chaps, but because it may cause unwanted attention for me and the child in my care.

Unfortunately, in this instance, Riven cared not for the consequences- the innocence of children and all that. Before I even knew what was happening, the child had left my side and sat upon the boughs of the tree. At first, nobody took notice, but then she started singing.

"Riven!" I hissed, largely ignored much to my annoyance as she was lost in the mirthful moment. "Get over here this instant!"

The elves stopped in their activities to listen to the song of the human-child which, if one should listen close enough, tugs at the heart's strings and puts the birds nestling above to shame. Embarassment causes me to stand aside and let her finish, noticing the impressed looks on the crowd's faces.

 _Riven is happy._ I tell myself, _That is all that matters._ This must be the gift Andraste mentioned, and if it manifests in the child it must be cultivated, so I must let her continue. Inhibiting her potential would prove ruinous after all.

"For a shem, she sings pretty good." I hear a gardener comment.

"Can't you hear? Those are the Old Words she's using!" Another hisses, "How can one like her know such a thing? It's unnatural, I tell you!"

Time to go.

The crowd disperses and returns to their businesses, much to my relief, save for one small elf girl who paused to place a daisy on Riven's ear. "Here you go, Ghi'len. I wish I could sing as good as you."

"Thank you." Riven smiles modestly.

"Your daughter has a gift, serah." I turned to see another human woman standing close to the elven girl. "Perhaps she would do even better in the Chantry's choir, wouldn't you agree?"

I pull Riven close and level my gaze with the stranger, "She's not my daughter. And though she's gifted, that's not what her voice is for." Though I ignored it, I noticed Riven eye me in shock over my words. My gruffness had gotten the better of me yet again. "Come, Riven. We've lingered here long enough."

"B-But, I like it here." She protests meekly, "I don't wanna go yet, it's so nice and quiet- not like the rest of the town. Please, Langerd, let's stay a bit longer."

I opened my mouth to declare firmly that we were heading home, but then I thought better of it and relented. "Fine, you've got two hours. Then we're heading home, understood?"

Riven bobs her head and practically jumps into her new friend's lap, ready to sing another captivating song to give voice to her merriment. I just stood by and watched as the elf attempts to join in, ruining the melody with her awkward squawking, which in the end resulted in them rolling on the ground clutching their sides in laughter.

Bethany, the human friend of the elven girl, regarded the scene with eyes that held wisdom beyond her years. She tried engaging me in small talk, but I always gave curt replies and cut off our interactions. I wasn't here to make friends, nor did I want to. Unfortunately, this served only to draw more of them in, attempting to make me open up a bit. "Bethany, we've only met for a day under unfavorable circumstances. So please, leave me be, the only thing I enjoy in this company is your silence."

The woman, surprisingly, remained unfazed by my tense personality. She shrugs, "Very well, it's a silence you shall have."

I leaned back, satisfied by her response, and waited for my charge to tire. Soon, the girl yawns and falls asleep with her ashen head upon the elf's lap, which I took as good news now that I could carry her back to the house without having to deal with her whining should she beg to stay any longer.

"You should come here more often." The elf remarks as I pick up the peacefully slumbering child.

I regarded the girl thoughtfully and reminded myself that if I was to find a job, perhaps as a mercenary since that was how far my skills went, I would need to find some place to leave Riven while I was on duty. What better place to leave her than in the company of trusted friends? There, I suddenly regreted acting the way I was, but alas the deed was done. Rebuilding bridges will have to wait.

That was enough exploring for a day. In the morning, I'm going to have to visit the city's mercenary guild. It doesn't have to be the most popular, just the one that could pay me enough to keep Riven fed and comfortable.

Also, I made a point to be more accomodating to the child's cheery disposition, noticing how easy it was for me to snap over that kind of temperament. Adjustment was the goal, and I must reach it for her sake.

No child, it matters not how adorable they are, none shall replace the son I lost. I'll protect Riven, teach her the ways of the world as my duty demands, but she will never be my daughter. Doesn't mean I'd have to spell it out too much, though. Andraste may have thrust this task into my hands, but I will not allow my inner cruelty to get the better of me, not in this girl's case.

 **}!{**


	18. Mercenary Work

**}!{**

There was a soft _thunk_ as my sword cleaves flesh.

The man utters a strangled cry as I savagely drag the blade across his chest and eviscerate him from shoulder to side, sending blood streaming out and staining my armor. His corpse collapses into two pieces, spilling his innards all over the wooden floor.

I had joined the Red Iron mercenary guild and accepted the most difficult of tasks they had to offer within a day. The guildmaster Meeran had his doubts at first, but never gave voice to it as he could not deny my efficiency in completing those bounties. Finding someone to take care of Riven while I worked was not difficult. Bethany Hawke, the woman who had taken a liking to the child, offered to watch over her in spite of my previous attitude towards her. Of course, I accepted it without hesitation.

Today, I took it upon myself to rid the Wounded Coast of the tevinter slavers single-handedly, finding the bounty on such a task quite large indeed. Meeran suggested I take detachment of his own men, doubting that I could finish the bounty on my own. I, of course, insisted that I worked better alone, having gotten accustomed to the life of a lone wanderer in Drangleic. The time I spent with Aedan and his company was not enough to diminish that habit.

Left to my own devices, I combed through the shipwrecked islands with greater ease than I expected, freeing captured fereldan refugees and devouring the souls of their captors.

The door leading into the main hall of the hideout gave off a loud creak as I opened it, alerting the rest of the slavers to my presence. I winced and drew my sword, enwreathing the geisteel blade with a strong blue flame. There was a sharp _clack_ as a steel trap closes over my ankle, rooting me into place as the slavers rallied together and charged from all sides. "Shit."

But I was not to be stopped here, it was their hour to die.

I conjured a wall of flame that gave me enough time to pry my foot free from the trap as the approaching slavers staggered back from the heat, then charged forward with my sword raised high.

Their screams added to the cacophany of steel upon steel, fanning my fervor of battle to a frenzy, to which I gladly surrendered. I was living the moment, refreshed with each foe slain and soul consumed, moving on and on and left wanting when it was over.

"They all die too quickly." I sighed, gathering the heads of their commanders in the sack I brought and slung it over my shoulder. The Red Iron requires proof of the task's completion, preferring the bodies slung upon horses. I, however, could not afford a horse, so the heads will suffice for now.

Suddenly, something knocks me over from behind, leaving a stinging sensation as the chainmail sizzles from a magical bolt! I grunt and turn around slowly, regarding the mage who struck me with a sneer, "That all you got?" She trembles at the sight of my bloody sword, eyes flitting from me and to the only exit that stood behind me.

I beckon her forward, "Come on then. I'm the only thing standing between you and survival. Give me your best shot, it's the only thing you can do." I shrugged, "Well, that and begging for mercy."

She makes a run for it, dropping her staff and flinging me across the room with a blast of force before stepping through the exit and out to freedom. I rub my neck and moved to get my feet under me, shaking my head in disbelief at my own carelessness. "Whatever. One escaped mage shouldn't make a difference."

I hefted the sack over my shoulder and set the room alight, following the corridor out into the Wounded Coast and watched the hideout burn. I take the flask of estus and drank deeply from its contents, reveling in the estus' burning sensation as it wafted throughout my veins.

Another day, another successful task completed.

Satisfied with my work, I turned heel and headed in the direction of the city. There was little disgust that I showed in the work I do, knowing it was all necessary. Being a knight of Heide does not present much opportunity compared to mercenary life in a foreign world.

Half an hour passed, I had reached the crossroads, which meant I was a quarter of a mile away from Kirkwall. The walk did not tire me, but it annoyed me since it made me a target for opportunists. No matter how many bounties I claim, the Wounded Coast has its way of sprouting outlaw hordes and slavers like weeds in a field, making it very dangerous for anyone traveling alone- well, anyone except me. None of them were strong enough to kill me, and if they even manage that, I'm just going to come back and hunt them all down to exact the same.

As I stepped onto the sand-encrusted path, flashes of blue and green caught my eye from behind a small hill, prompting me to investigate against my better judgement. Another fight had broken out, between a motley band of adventurers and similarly dressed brigands.

It was like a scene from the past, the day I met Aedan on the slopes of the Frostback Mountains facing off against the darkspawn. My lips twitch into a smile as I recalled those moments fighting alongside him and Leliana, sadness overcoming my reminiscence as a deep longing budded within me.

I knew what that longing was. I missed those moments, the fellowship of their company although Morrigan tends to sour it with her obnoxiety and loose lips. And Leliana, though she annoys me with her advances, I miss her too.

Gods! Am I finally getting soft?

A stray arrow strikes me in the leg, bringing my thoughts back to the present. The bite of the shaft was enough to prod me to decide on intervening as I did then, conjuring a large ball of flame and hurling it in the direction of the brigands, turning those too slow to run to ash in an instant! The souls gave a barely audible sigh as they left the charred remains, adding themselves to the churning pool collecting within me.

I pluck the arrow from my left calf and set down the sack of severed heads on the ground before running to join the clash below, grateful for this chance to collect more souls. Leaping over an overhanging rock, I willed the flames to form around my outstretched palm, calling forth a firestorm that decimated the area once I slammed my fist earthwards, transforming the surrounding area into a charred wasteland and sending more brigands to the afterlife.

"Maker's breath!" The dwarf armed with a repeater crossbow exclaimed, "Y'know, there's a fine line between overkill and necessary, messere!"

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" I retorted, "This battle has gone on long enough, prolonging it diminishes the dignity of the moment!"

"Hear that, Varric?" The leader of the band, a tall lad armed with a spear, chuckled as he sets his enemies ablaze with a wave of his hand. "Another line for your story!"

"Dignity of the moment." Varric echoes, "Yeah, I think I can work with that one, Hawke."

Hawke? Could there be any relation to Bethany with this man? I hadn't the pleasure of meeting anyone else in her inner circle other than the elf girl Merrill, so I wouldn't know. I decided to address that issue later, opting to finish off the rest of the brigands so I could turn in my bounties by the end of the day.

An assassin disappears from the chaos of the fight and bursts from the shadows behind me, driving both of his blades through my back before fading out of sight again. The assault did not kill me, but it was enough to send me into a rage.

While Hawke and his companions busied themselves with the other brigands, my focus was directed to the slippery rogue that engaged me into this duel. He throws sand into my face to distort my vision so he could get close, but had difficulty doing so when I toss a gout of flame in his direction.

My sword meets his twin daggers as I bring it down with all the force my arms could muster, driving the man to his knees as geisteel connects with iron. I catch a hint of smile on his lips as he spun on the ground, sweeping his leg across the ground to knock my feet from under me.

I fall, and he pounces, savagely stabbing at me six times in quick succession before disappearing once again.

He must have thought I was dead, if so he was mistaken. I had grown stronger in my stay here in Thedas, it would take a lot more than a few wounds to keep me down. To prove such a point, I picked myself up and scanned the battlefield for any sign of the rogue.

"Still up and about, eh?" I hear him mock as he re-emerged, cutting me quickly across the arm as he wove in and out like a fox through the thicket. "You're a tough one, I'll give you that."

"Sadly, I cannot say the same for you." I answered, taking my punishment calmly as I analyzed his attack pattern, waiting for the right chance to get a hold of the agile fighter. Then, I felt the faint effects of some poison working its way through my veins. I realized the reason behind the many cuts he was making now, feeling myself grow weak as my muscles shriveled beneath my skin. I fell to one knee just as the assassin appears to strike again- another mistake on his part.

As his blade sinks into my heart, I reach out and grab hold of his throat, drawing a tight grip on his windpipe so hard that it would take a sword to rid my hand off him. He does so, fear evident in his wolfish gray eyes as he stabbed away at my arm frantically. Ten seconds pass, and I see his face grow red and puffy. The man gasps and coughs violently, then shudders as his eyelids close over his swollen orbs.

Soon, he was dead.

I let out a sigh and sit on the bloodied ground, listening to my own wheezing as the poison found its way to my lungs. "Close." I told the assassin's corpse, "But not enough…"

"Do you need help, serah?" Hawke, the mage, approaches me as I recovered from the battle. "Those wounds look pretty nasty to me."

"No." I answered, drinking the last sip of estus available for the day. I preferred not to have them take a closer examination of what I was, they would not be as lenient as Aedan was back in Ferelden when he discovered the curse of undeath upon me. "It's nothing a good potion can't handle."

That seemed to satisfy him for now. "Thanks for the assist." He said, helping me up.

"If you're in any way related to Bethany Hawke, it's only right that I made sure you returned to the city in one piece." I said as I cleaned my sword from the ichor spilled in battle, "What are you all doing this far into the Wounded Coast?"

"An investigation, of sorts." The woman in guardsman armor replied curtly. "Hawke, we're done here. We should get back to the city. Captain Jeven must be informed of what happened here."

"Agreed, Aveline." Hawke said with a nod, turning back to me. "Won't you join us? The roads these days can get dangerous."

"That's what they all tell me." I answered, retrieving the sack of heads and walking in step with the mage. "But alright, don't mind me if I slow you down. What I'm carrying is quite heavy."

"Aaand…may I ask what's in the bag, serah?" Varric inquired as he watches the blood trickle out of the tiny pores of the cloth sack.

I shrug nonchalantly, "Severed heads. They're for my bounties."

I received no replies from the group after that, leaving me scratching my neck at what I said wrong.

* * *

"Langerd!"

Riven startles me with her sudden joyous cry. I hear the rattle of her feet against the floor as she runs to me, jumping straight up into my reluctant arms. "You're back!"

Bethany Hawke chuckles at the sight, "She's been asking non-stop about you since you've left this house."

I roll my eyes and set the excited the child down, "Not now, Riven. I'm still all bloody from a day's work. Let me wash up and then I'll rejoin you soon after." Once I was free from the child's grasp, I turn my gaze to Bethany. "Did you have to put up with this all day?"

"Yeah, but it's not that big of a deal." She replied with a shake of the head. "Riven's a sweetheart. I'm looking forward to spending more time with her."

"Glad to hear it." I muttered, handing her twenty coppers for the assistance.

"Langerd, I know it may not be my place to ask, but what did you mean when you said Riven was not your daughter?"

"She isn't." I chose to humor the question so it won't be repeated. "I found her wandering the ruins of her village when the Qunari raiders attacked. A child like her does not deserve to walk this world alone, so I did what any decent man would."

"Qunari raiders? You mean the Tal Vashoth."

I shrugged, "Any difference between the two? I don't really care, they were raiders same as any."

"And you took all of them on alone?"

She found no hesitance in my gaze, "You find it hard to believe? Swords aren't the only things I wield best in battle, my dear girl. When done right, you can reduce whole armies to ash with a single flick of the wrist. I'm more surprised at the state I've found this wo- land is in concerning its mages. You hide your gifts for fear of persecution?"

"A mage is fire made flesh and a demon asleep." Bethany quotes some old proverb of her people, "It is the will of the Maker. Magic has its dangers, I do not agree with how the Circle or the people generally treat mages but I understand why things are the way they are."

"You shouldn't concern yourself with the fears of people around you, for you cannot control them." I told her, "Tend to your own fears, and upon mastering yourself- you master magic. It's a gift, never to be squandered just because some ignorant fool tells you to. You'll only be a danger to those around you if you choose to be." I don't know where I got that old saying, but somewhere in the dense fog that shrouds much of my past, it must have been the teachings of some forgotten teacher who schooled me in the magics of Heide.

Bethany smiles, "That's what father used to say. I'm glad you're of a similar mind."

"Hmph." I grumbled, "I'm merely giving voice to the disgust I have for this excuse of a society." Once I had cleaned and stored my armor and weapons, I showed the young woman to the door. "Well then, Bethany, I'd hate to keep you any more than necessary. Thank you for watching over Riven. I bid you good night."

The door slides shut and I pull the latch down to lock it in place, rejoining the ashen-haired child in the bedroom. Riven waited for me patiently within the heavy confines of her fur blanket.

I rub her little feet before tucking them inside, moving now to fix up the chair where I will be sitting on for the whole night. A full minute passed, and I noticed Riven has not gone to sleep just yet. "Langerd. Will you read me a bedtime story?"

I stare at the child in disbelief for a moment and had this thought roll about in my head for a while before coming to a decision. Why not? "Alright then." I walk over to her and sit on the bed beside Riven. "One story, then it's off to dreamland with you, alright?"

Riven bobs her head and scoots closer as I began the tale. I don't remember exactly where I got the story, but the words seemed fresh enough for me to retell it.

"Rattlesnake was a vain and ugly creature.  
He crawled in dark places and avoided the other desert animals.  
He was lonely, but refused to act like it.  
One day, while sitting under a rock and wishing to be happy,  
He saw Desert Runner sprinting past.

'Wait,' it called to the bird. 'I have a favor to ask of you!'

Desert Runner stopped. She had never heard Rattlesnake speak before.  
His voice was a slow, nasty hiss, and that greatly disturbed Desert Runner.

'Please, Desert Runner, my voice is harsh, and yours is so pretty.  
You are so fast, and much braver than me. Can you bring me a voice like yours?'

Desert Runner thought for a moment and then said,  
'I will lend you some of my voice, and put it in your tail.'  
That is why the Rattlesnake clicks.

The bird turned to leave, but again Rattlesnake stopped her.

'I am sorry to trouble you again, Desert Runner,  
but your patterns are so beautiful, and my scales are plain.  
Can you bring me a pattern like yours?'

'I will paint on your back with my feet,'Desert Runner said.  
That is why Rattlesnake is decorated with diamonds."

The rest of the tale needn't be said, for Riven had heard enough and was now asleep. I watched the youngling in all her serenity, unable to help myself when something as old as instinct prompts my hand to reach forward and caress her silver locks.

Riven stirs slightly and reaches out in her sleep, her soft little hand latching on to my calloused and scarred palm. I froze at the feeling of life touching my cursed skin, something flickers within my soul, like a match struck against an old unattended wick.

Yet this time, it actually lights up.

I lay down beside Riven and drape my arm over her form, careful not to put the entirety of its weight so as not to crush her in her sleep. I hear a comfortable sigh come from those lips, and she snuggles closer to the warmth of my chest.

I roll my eyes and just watched the candles on the tabletop burn away until the only light left was that of the moon staring from the open window.

I really am getting soft these days.

 **}!{**


	19. The Voice

**}!{**

Mages in the world of Thedas rarely 'stoop' to make use of bladed weapons, Garret Hawke being the only exception I've seen thus far, with his spear and all. Today, Riven will adopt both skills, with me teaching her to master the arts of the arcane and the blade.I'm not a mage primarily, but the little things I know far surpasses the most experienced arcanist this world has to offer.

Riven showed a capacity to wield magic before, but I had to know her limits. The basic spells tend to exhaust her within minutes into our lessons, proving she was quite frail compared to most children- a testament to her bloodline it would seem. Andraste was told to be similarly frail in her life here on Thedas.

This fact did not deter me from my duties, however. Away from the prying eyes of the public, I trained Riven as much as patience would allow. She made up for her shortcomings with a steely perseverance, and an optimistic attitude that never seemed to break.

The only thing I was worried about is concerning her innocence. If she was to be another pawn in the Maker's game, that aspect of her character must be shredded. I am not being cruel, it is the only way.

"I'm sorry!" Riven exclaimed, rushing forward and laying her hands on the wound she opened across my arm when she broke through my guard. A faint glow emanates from her palms as they touched the ruined flesh, "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

We had been training since mid-day, and her skills had a noticeable increase as the hours passed. Also, the wounds she inflicted on me were quite impressive for a child, probably because I went easy on her. Hesitance was the only setback in our exercises, for Riven did not want to hurt the only loved one she had left. "I'm fine Riven." I assure her, "Return to form, I must see your grip."

I had chosen our training grounds outside Kirkwall, but not too far lest the outlaws roaming the wilds choose to prey on us. The worry was not for my wellfare but for the child, if she were to die on my watch there's no coming back for her, not that I will let that happen. "Don't slash." I told her, "That manuever is good only when you're taking on two. How many enemies do you see in front of you?"

"Just…just one." She replies hesitantly, referring to me.

"Good." I said with a nod, "What do you do when facing just one?"

"I…I thrust?"

"Yes. Now, show me your footwork."

We continued training until I noticed the first signs on fatique settling in on the youngling, then we stopped for drink in a nearby river. Most masters would teach their students with wooden swords, but I'm not most masters, I needed Riven to get used to the weight of a real blade hence the use of a sharp shortsword in practice.

"Papa?"

I wipe the sweat off my brows and arch them at the mention of the name. Riven had taken to call me that as of late, and at first it annoyed the hell out of me, but I guess since that night I accepted how she sees me I let it grow over me. "What's on your mind, little one?"

"What were you before you were a soldier?" Riven asked, sitting down beside me on the riverbank.

I smiled, "I'm a mercenary, Riven, not a soldier. Soldiers fight and die for a cause, not for coin. But to answer your question, I was a knight once. But that was a long time ago…"

"What do knights do?"

"Well, we serve a lord or lady, fight for their honor and their battles for them. We defend the helpless and safeguard the kingdom from all threats- within and without. In my case, it's a lot more complicated than that."

"What does complicated mean?"

"It means it's hard to understand." I explained, "I served a king. That's as far as I remember…"

The child was still full of curiousity, "Why?"

I regarded Riven with silence, staring with unseeing eyes as my mind wandered through the dense fogs of my memories.

"Papa, what's wrong?"

I listened to the peaceful sound or running waters, pursing my lips as I tried my very best to recall the life I had before my rebirth as an undead. Alas, I cannot. "Nothing's wrong, Riven." I told her, ruffling her ashen hair. "Come on, let's go home. You must be hungry."

I pick up our weapons and march out of the riverbank with Riven's hand clasped on mine. The child skips along, stopping every now and then to pick a flower to add to her collection under her am. Then, the smile on my face fades as I hear the approach of someone coming from behind the ravine, recognizing the faint jingle of chains and spurs on boots. "Riven, come. Pick up the pace."

"W-Why?"

I didn't answer, just pulled the child up onto my shoulder as I see the brigands round the bend. They didn't see me, but as it turns out, another group comes my way. As soon as they spot me, their scout whistles for the other group, and I hear the pleased chuckles from their leader.

"Well well, what do we have here?" She had that tevinter accent such as I've heard with many from Kirkwall. "Straying far from the safety of the city's walls? Tsk tsk, alright boys, kill the man but take the girl. She'll fetch a handsome price with that cute face indeed."

I was hoping to avoid a fight, especially in front of Riven. But I guess innocence is taken, one way or another, the child must learn. To do that, she will have to witness the true face of the world- violence. "Riven." I tell the girl, placing her on the ground behind me. "Stay at my back. This is about to get ugly."

"Papa?" Her voice quivers. "I'm scared."

"You won't be for long." I assured her, enwreathing my sword with golden pine, setting it ablaze with lightning. I turned to the slavers, "Come at me, let's go!"

I had left my armor back in our room in the tavern, so this battle would be a lot more difficult than I'm used to. I stuck to a defensive stance while the marauders sent in two by two to test me, astonishment dawning on their leader's face when she realizes there was more to me than meets the eye. "Andraste's flamin' ass! It's a mage!"

Blood splashes all over me as I gut raider after raider, receiving little scratches here and there as their weapons swung harmlessly past. Lightning crackles as I struck the ground with my sword, opening a large crack in the earth as the resulting shockwave summons a brief but powerful tremor.

I dove forward as three arrows whizzed by, striking the place where I stood a second ago, and tossed a soul arrow in the direction of the archers standing over the hill above. With her company losing its number, the slaver leader was eventually forced to take part of the action herself.

She wasn't as fast as I was, but was damned strong for a woman her size, wielding a greatsword that was almost as tall as she was. We traded in blows, each forcing the other back at one point and gaining ground the next. Every now and then, one of her comrades would take advantage of the distraction and come at me from behind, only to have his sneak attack blown when Riven would yell out in warning. "Papa! Behind you!"

Quickly, I would turn around and set him aflame with my pyromancy.

Suddenly, I feel a searing pain come from my side as my opponent siezes her opportunity and drives her greatsword through my abdomen! Instinctively, I drop my blade and grab onto the edges of the greatsword to halt its advance, unmindful of the agonizing cuts it was making to my palms as it sank in deeper. The woman had a mad grin on her face as I groan, feeling the tip of the sword perfortrate my stomach and pierce my back. Blood oozes out in a steady trickle, adding to the drying smear upon the cracked earth.

I could hear Riven's anguished cries even through the dizzying haze settling into my mind. "Papa! No!"

I drop to one knee, summoning all the strength my arms could muster and pushed the greatsword out of my body. The slaver leans in and says smugly, "Cost a lot of my men for this task, mate. Think I'll raise the price for yer girl when we get to the markets, might make it all worth the effort, yeah?"

"Get away from him!" Riven surprises both of us when she picks up my sword and charges at the taller woman, making a nasty cut across her face as she brought down the bloodied weapon. The slaver staggers back with an agonized cry at her injury and slaps the child across the face, driving her to the ground.

"You little bitch!" She spat, fury turning her pale face red. "I'll have your ears for that!"

But when she moves to strike her once more, Riven sits up and lets out a scream. But this wasn't an ordinary scream, for none of the sort had the power to sweep a grown raider off her feet and tear hills right out of the earth! Dirt and sand blind me momentarily as the resonating waves churns the ground around us. Riven does not stop screaming until I reach out and take hold of her shoulders, by then half the riverbank and its surrounding hills were gone!

I cough up a mouthful of blood in shock, "Gods…and here I thought your voice was all for singing…" My free hand grasps the body of the estus flask, I drink deeply from its liquid fire and the fatal wounds on my body close up as it replenishes my health. I came out of the battle more or less intact, it was Riven who came out shaken to the core.

The girl whimpered softly as I picked her up. "I think that's enough action for today, don't you agree?" She bobs her head quietly and hides her face into my shoulder. I take her out of the ruined valley as quickly as my legs could carry me, knowing a scream like that would prompt the templars to investigate. I would prefer that we'd be out of the scene when it proves true.

 **}!{**


	20. Recompense

**}!{**

Riven whined as the damp cloth presses against her bruised cheek, she slaps my hand away and curls up into a ball on the bed.

I rolled my eyes and pulled her back up, "Riven, stop it."

The child sobs, "But it hurts!"

"Only at first." I said as gently as I could, calling on the power of frost to apply a bit of ice on the affected area. That slaver woman hit Riven a solid one, but it wasn't something I couldn't fix. "Now hold still, this won't take long."

The girl looks up at me with trusting eyes, lids glistening with tears. I dab a bit more at the bruise and sat back, pleased with the following response. "There, not so bad now, is it?"

Riven stretches out her little arms and embraces me, mumbling all the while as she buries her face into my chest. "I killed them…I killed them all." Her skin felt hot as she poured out all the anguish in her young heart. I caress her silver hair and hold her tenderly, at a loss for words as I searched for a way to make her understand it all had to be done.

"It was…" I hesitated a brief moment, "…necessary." Argh, why does my tongue fail me in moments like these?

Riven looks up at me and sniffs, "W-What do you mean?"

I stroke her cheek, "Riven. At a young age, you've been given a glimpse at the true nature of the must know, it isn't all sunshine and rainbows. This is a world filled with the wicked, the vile and the bloodthirsty- like that slaver woman you screamed at. Sometimes…" I paused, fumbling around for a way to make her understand. "…sometimes you have to kill, even if you are against it, to protect yourself and those you love. That may never make it right, but then again, it's never an issue of righteousness."

I reach down and tap at her chest, "You have a pure heart, my child. As the years go by, your experiences will chip away at your innocence. But you must never lose this purity. Gods only know it may be the only semblance of light anyone will have in these dark times."

"You talk all the time like it's the end of the world." Riven said quietly, "You're scaring me, papa."

I thought a while about the final battle Andraste and the Maker told me about, the Destroyer, the purpose of Riven's being and my role in the center of it all. Regarding my grim nature, she will never understand the forces that shaped me into what I was now. "Riven." I held the child close, "You are the joy in my life where everything else is dark and bleak. If I ever speak so grimly, forgive me- for it is what I am."

"No." Her soft hands hold my cheeks, "You can't be this sad all the time. I'm going to make you happy, papa. Just like you make me happy." Her fingers pull at the sides of my lips, making me smile.

We shared a moment of silence and a meal, something Riven was grateful to have after a lone day of training. She drank down her soup and wolfed down on those two loaves of fresh-baked bread. I sat back and watched her eat, choosing the right moment to talk about her new ability. "Have you screamed like that before, Riven?"

Riven looks at me and shakes her head, "No."

"If I asked you to do it again, could you?"

Another shake of the head, "I don't know."

I sighed, "I see. Perhaps we'll get to that part some other time."

There was a knock on our door, prompting me to grab my sword and approach it cautiously before answering. "Who is it?"

"It's Bethany." The woman replied from the other side, "May I come in?"

"Auntie Beth!" Riven squeals, jumping into her arms as the door opens. Bethany Hawke chuckles and hoists the girl up, planting a little kiss on her cheek. She frowns when she notices the bruise under her eye.

"Oh, what happened here?"

"Had a run in with a group of Tevinter slavers while we were out training in the Wounded Coast." I answered, stepping back in surprise when Bethany's brother comes in with company. "I thought you were coming alone. What is the meaning of this?"

Garret spoke for his sister, "Came to ask for your help in something."

"I beg your pardon?" I said, confused at his words. "What gave you the notion you can barge into my home unannounced and assume I'm up for some little misadventure of yours? No, Hawke. I'm off duty, and I want to spend the rest of the day with Riven. Out, the lot of you!"

"See? Told you it was a waste of time." Varric shrugged.

"Aren't you going to at least hear what I have to say? It's a job offer, not a favor!" Garret insisted.

I took pause at that, knowing I had to get as much coin as I can to pay for mine as well as the girl's needs in Lowtown. "Oh. Well…make it fast then. Be a little more tempting in your offer while you're at it."

"We're on a mission to find some missing templar recruits and we're short on one man. As a mercenary with your talents, and a friend of Beth's, I'd say you'd be perfect to fit in for the role. You're welcome to your fair share of loot when we run into some trouble."

The Red Iron was experiencing a lack of clients as of late, so I was a tad less than off-duty. I was unemployed, and that was not a good thing. It's not the best offer I have right not, but I'll take it. I turn to Bethany, "And you? You volunteered me up to this, I assume you've come to watch over the girl in my stead?"

The woman nods, "Don't worry, I've got it covered."

Riven, on the other hand, was overjoyed at the thought. "Yay! Do I get to spend the night with you too? So what do we do first? Hide and seek? Oh! Wait, what about we braid each other's hair?"

I'm glad at least someone's happy with this whole business. "Just give me a minute to get myself ready."

* * *

"You promised me loot!" I grumbled, driving my sword up to the hilt into the spider's head, wincing as its acrid green blood splatters all over my visor. "I do not approve of empty promises, Hawke."

The foot of Sundermount was filled with nests of the horrid creatures. Hours had gone by, and we weren't even close to our supposed destination. Even worse, nothing of value to pick along the way.

"I know a few merchants who would be willing to buy spider's silk." Merrill offered timidly, "Oh, the stingers would prove valuable!" She takes out her dagger and cuts off the tips of the arachnids' abdomen.

"Knock yourself out." I grumbled.

"Quit complaining." Garret said in annoyance, "See this through with me and you'll get your just reward."

We marched on, scrambling over jagged rocks and scaling the sides of the cliffs towards the last templar recruit's camp. According to what Garret knew, the captain of those recruits went off in search of a wayward lad who everyone was led to believe was the only one to return from a highly suspect event. Hawke was hoping the lad would still be in one piece once we get there, especially with this whole business involving blood mages.

"So, Langerd, you mind telling me where you're from?" Varric spoke up.

A lizard utters a pitiful squeak before my boot smashes it against the rocks, "Yes, I do mind." Too many questions, most are beyond my capability to answer. "If this conversation is to glean material for your books, do me a favor and talk to someone else."

The dwarf shrugs, "Fine. If you're not going to tell me, I'm going to have to make it up. Langerd the Grim, a warrior hailing from a land famed for its never-smiling people and gray weather."

That pretty much sums up Drangleic. "I think I'll call it Ashenoir, has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"It's Heide." I relented.

"Okay…Langerd the Grim…" The charcoal stylus scrapes noisily on the notebook as Varric jots down on his ideas, an amused grin on his wide face. "…the Knight of Heide, dressed in silver…wait, I can't tell if that's steel or just- ah whatever."

"Bradden steel." I muttered.

"Dressed in bradden steel, roams the lands of the Free Marches, with no lord or king to call his own except for gold. And he…" Varric stops and stares at his notes in surprise, "Maker's breath, Langerd, you'd make an excellent addition to my story! Where do I even begin?"

"Hawke tells me you're a mage." The elf girl pipes up, "Where's your staff?"

"I don't use staves." I replied, "Flimsy little things, they only inhibit your true potential."

"Really? I was taught it is the only way a mage can channel their magic properly." Merrill stares at me wide-eyed, "Have we been doing it wrong this whole time?"

"Never heard of Heide." Garret joins in. "Is it a part of the Imperium of Tevinter?"

I guess there's no point in hiding that part, no harm in answering either. "No. It's a lot farther than you think."

"How'd you get this far into the Free Marches then?"

I shrugged, "Like Varric said, I wandered aimlessly, be it through churning sea or dust-flecked roads. Then one day, I just happened to be here."

"The Circle trained you there in Heide?"

I shook my head, "There is no Circle where I'm from. Mages are not coralled nor persecuted like they do in this land, they are valued the same as any subject of Heide. Kings are no fools when they see power. Magic is not something to be feared, the same way you look at the flames burning in your hearth."

The elf girl remarks, "Really? Must be a nice place to live in."

I frowned at the bitter memory, "Doesn't matter now though, it's all gone…swallowed up beneath the sea when it came to reclaim it."

"Oh." Merrill holds my shoulder, voice tinged with pity. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

I grunted in annoyance, shaking off her hand. "Don't feel sorry for me, girl. It is the natural order of things. Heide, like all kingdoms before it, had reached the pinnacle of its achievements- and so it must fall." In truth, the curse had eroded much of my memories about what truly happened that day. I must've been there when the waves drank up Heide, but then again, some things are better off staying buried.

"It's a good thing you and your daughter survived that tragedy, then." Garret comments.

"She is not…" I began, sighing in resignation. To what end shall I keep denying what Riven truly is to me? "Yes…it is fortunate that we remain yet among the living."

"She's lucky to have you, you know." Merrill, ever the starry-eyed optimist, continues this boring prattle. "You're a good man and a good father, providing for her every need the way you do."

"I suppose." I replied, wishing desperately for a moment of silence.

Garret changes the subject, "So, what kind of magics did they teach you in Heide? Are you willing to teach me some?"

"Careful now, Hawke." I warned, "That question treads on a very serious matter, and I do not take it lightly. Ask it another time, preferably when you know me better and we're not on a quest, hm?"

"Very well."

"Andraste be my witness, Wilmod!" A voice growls menacingly from below the ravine. "I will have the truth from you, now!"

"Mercy sir, mercy!" Another cries out.

"Were it that easy."

"I think we found them." I remarked, watching as the templar captain strike down his recruit and hold him at sword-point.

"I will know where you're going, and I will know now!" The captain snarled at his downed victim.

"Don't you lay another hand on that boy!" Garret declares firmly, hand reaching for his spear.

"This is templar business, stranger!" The captain retorted.

An otherworldly voice chuckles hysterically, all eyes turned to Wilmod, whose eyes blazed with demonic fire. **"You have struck me the last time, you pathetic human!"** The lad convulses and writhes as though in pain, back arching violently as the entity morphs him into something truly monstrous! **"To me!"**

At its command, six abominations tore themselves through the Veil, talons and gaping maws ready to rend and tear. The templar captain hoists up his shield, sheer terror evident on his grizzled face. "Maker preserve us!"

As if the Maker cares at all for your plight. "Come, let us finish this, Hawke."

"Agreed." The man replied, spinning his spear above his head to gain the desired momentum and rushed to the templar captain's side. I questioned the wisdom behind using magic in full view of a templar who may turn you in the minute it feels convenient to him, but it seemed this one couldn't care less at the moment as long as we backed him up- something to worry about another time I would assume.

I drew my sword and struck at the shade, frowning in annoyance as the geisteel blade passes through its body like it would on water! The shade chuckles madly and scratches me across the chest, leaving three new marks upon its battered surface. "You're gonna pay for that." I muttered, casting a flare that set its phantom body aflame. The shade shuffles back in agony, waving its hands wildly as the fire slowly ate away at its demonic hide.

Varric's crossbow utters a rhyming barrage of three bolts, oddly doing more damage to the demons than my blade ever could. The shafts must've been coated with silver, which may be the only metal in any world that purifies corruption next to hallowed gold. "One more for the dwarf!"

"You think this is a game?" I said in disgust, driving my sword through an abomination's abdomen and lopping it apart from top to bottom.

"Keeping score just makes it interesting." The dwarf answers, quickly reloading his weapon before sending another barrage at the advancing horde. "If I took things too seriously, I might just end up as sour as you!"

Give it a century, yeah, he'll definitely end up as sour as me, although I doubt he'll live that long anyway.

We fought on for another minute or so, driving the demons hard into the ground and banishing them into the void from which they came. There were no souls for me to devour this time, so the whole thing felt entirely empty to me.

"I knew, I knew he was up to something sinister!" The captain exclaimed shakily, hand grasping a healing potion to mend the wounds on his side and arms. He drank the concoction, strength returning to his bruised and battered body. "But…is this even possible?"

He looks up at us and thanks us for our intervention, "I am Knight Captain Cullen, I thank you for your assistance."

"What were you doing out here with that boy, captain?" I inquired.

"I have been conducting an investigation on some of our recruits who have gone missing." He explained, "Wilmod was the first to return. I had hoped to confront him quietly, out of sight."

"Well, I'm certain you did your best to do just that." I remarked, glancing down at the charred and mangled remains of the aforementioned templar recruit.

"I'm conducting an investigation of my own." Garret spoke up, "I was trying to find another recruit, a friend of Wilmod's. Do you know where Keran is?"

Cullen shook his head, "He also disappeared. They were last seen together at the Blooming Rose. But I had no luck interrogating the…um…young ladies there. I doubt they know anything about demons or magic."

"The brothel at Hightown?" Varric mused. "Surprise surprise."

"I will speak with them." Garret offered, "You never know how much you can learn from pillow talk."

I glared at the man and shook my head, heading off back into the remains of the battlefield to loot what I can from the ashes and abomination corpses. Sadly, there was nothing I could find save for a copper chain pendant and a silver coin.

"The Order will truly be in your debt if you helped us in this matter." Cullen said, "No one at the brothel would speak to me for fear I would shut them down for servicing our recruits. If you learn what monster did this to Wilmod, please come to me at the Gallows. I will ensure you are rewarded."

"Hear that, Langerd?" Garret said to me once the captain left, "I told you it'll be worth seeing through."

"So, on to the brothel?" I asked, pocketing what I found at the battlefield.

"Not yet, I need to stop by the Hanged Man and collect a bounty from Meeran." Garret answered, "Afterwards, yes, we'll go to the Blooming Rose."

* * *

The noonday sun was just about halfway done dipping itself over the horizon when we entered through Kirkwall's gates. I considered splitting up from the group and pass by my house, opting to rejoin them after I've made sure Riven was alright. But then I changed my mind, deciding to see this job through the whole way, so I stayed at Hawke's side.

Standing close to the chatty dwarf didn't make it any more bearable, however.

"So, what did you do before you came to Kirkwall?"

He's probably not going to believe me anyway, so I told him the truth. "I served with the Hero of Ferelden and helped him slay the Archdemon."

"Oh come on! I'm just trying to make a casual conversation."

"And I'm telling you the truth." I replied nonchalantly, "Take it as you will, you have my story as requested. If you're still not satisfied, that's not my problem."

"Wait, you did?" Garret joins in. "You actually served with the Hero of Ferelden? How come I've never heard of you?"

"That's because they call me-

"The Ashen Warlock!"

I jumped at the announcement once we stepped inside the Lowtown tavern. The voice was very familiar to me, and yet the face it belonged to was far from it. The man was in his late twenties, dressed in a suit patched together from different sets of armor, and yet there was the symbol of one of Ferelden's noble houses etched upon his breastplate. "Come now, Langerd!" He calls, throwing one arm over my shoulder and thrusting a mug of ale in my hand. "Don't look at me like that, don't you recognize your old friend from the land of the dog lords?"

I stared at him dumbly, so he continues for me. "It's me, you daft twit! Old man Locketti!"

I looked him from head to toe, slowly digesting this bit of news. "I should be looking at an old man, hence the name. Yet, I'd recognize that voice anywhere. What the hell happened to you, old friend?"

"It's a long story, I hope you've got the time to listen." Loki offers me a seat alongside his mates, all mercenaries with the same house emblem on their helmets. I didn't wait for Hawke's permission, so I sat alonside them, interested in hearing the tale behind Loki's transformation. Garret and the others moved on without me and had their talk with Meeran.

"After your disappearance following the battle for Denerim, when everyone settled down to rebuild all that was lost in the war, I served my lord and his house as any good bannerman would. The time came when his old age caught up to him, and so he lay dying in his bedchamber, in loss of hope since he would depart with no heir nor wife to claim his holdings." Loki passes the mug to have it refilled, "But, a skilled alchemist at his court offered an experimental elixir that could prolong his life. The only problem here was that it hadn't been tested before, so someone had to volunteer."

"And that was you?"

Loki nods, "It hurt like hell, but nobody could deny its power! Soon, our lord was back at it, cured of whatever was keeping him from having children and banging away at the mistresses who'd grace his bedchamber!" He holds up a small flask hanging at his neck, "Took a few drops when I was released from my duties there."

"So you're a mercenary now?" I asked.

He nods, "Can't enjoy my new life as a noble, too boring. So I stuck to what I do best, the life as a sellsword."

"You having any problems with anyone concerning that elixir?" I inquired cautiously, "Not that I'm not happy for you, but there are people of this world who would kill for that kind of power."

Loki shrugs, "It's the same as the apostates running around free these days. Nobody's going to be looking for a scrap with me unless they're the desperate ones. I'll do just fine, old friend, don't you worry about a thing."

"It's good to see you again, Loki." I smiled, "How fares the Warden when you last heard?"

"He's doing fine." Came the answer, "Sadly, I can't say the same for Sister Leliana."

I frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"Well, old friend, you see…she didn't take it well when you left Denerim. I'm not fool enough not to notice, she was absolutely smitten by you. Whatever possessed you to do that, it broke her heart. With women, leaving without a word is the same as getting drawn and quartered."

I sighed inwardly. "I can be so cruel when I don't even mean it."

"Damn right, but alas, what's done is done." Loki offered another jug for me, "So, another round? For old times sake."

"You owe us, Isabela!" Someone growls loudly not too far from where we're sitting. Loki glances up at the lad leaning threateningly at a woman drinking at the table.

"Ah, lad's biting off more than he can chew." He comments.

"Really? How'd you figure that?" I asked, taking interest in the heated exchange.

"Well, Lucky, I'll tell you what…" The woman declares, unfazed by his menacing tone. "Since the information you gave me was worth nothing, that's what I'll pay you."

"He's a Kirkwaller." Loki answers my question, "And that woman's a Rivaini pirate. Need I say more?"

"I don't get around much, so I wouldn't know the difference."

"Me and my boys will get our money's worth, bitch!" Lucky slams her cup down as she raises it to her lips.

Loki grins, "Just watch."

The Rivaini rolls her eyes in response and leans close, "Oh, you poor sweet thing…" The following sequence was- and I hate to admit it- hilarious. Lucky and his gang of thugs found themselves covered in bruises and left rolling on the floor, pride wounded and robbed of all desire to pursue their 'reward'.

Defeated, they left the Hanged Man. Loki and I gave the woman a brief congratulatory applause and then went back to drinking. "That was…mildly entertaining."

"Ah, your grim countenance and inability to be impressed." Loki shook his head, "Some things never change."

 **}!{**


	21. A Servant of Darkness?

**}!{**

"Why the fuck are we wasting time here for?" I grumbled as we stood in the empty courtyard of Hightown. Garret took a moment to speak with the Rivaini woman back in the Hanged Man, and now I find myself accompanying him as he acted as her second in a duel. "Did Hawke suddenly forget the urgency of his first quest for the sake of a pair of pretty legs and wanting eyes?"

"Whoa, slow down there, big guy!" Varric cautions, "There's no harm in lending a hand every now and then. In this case, we're making another friend for future quests. It's a wise move for Hawke, don't you agree?"

"No, I do not." I crossed my arms, "But alas, here I am, holding up my end of the bargain. You know what? That's enough whinging from me…"

"Argh." Isabela paced around nervously in front of us, "We've been here for hours, Hayder still hasn't shown up. I don't like this."

"And rightly so." I pointed up the path, "Look there. We've got company."

"That's the wench we're looking for!" A group of armed brigands emerged from the shadows. "Gut her!"

As soon as they were in range, I called down a bolt of lighting from the sky, letting the shaft strike the ground where our enemies stood. They were clustered together, so the resulting shockwave threw them off balance and disintegrated those unfortunate enough to stand directly in the way of the bolt to ash. "Finally, I was getting a little bored." The blade scrapes noisily against the scabbard as I drew it out.

I waded into the thick of it, as was my habit, calling the most of their attention while the pirate weaved in and out, slicing exposed wrists and throats wherever she could find. Archers came at me from behind and loosed their shafts. Arrows bit into my skin as they bore through the thinning chainmail, thumping loudly when I caught them with my shield- just barely saving myself from death.

"You alright, Langerd?" Varric calls in concern.

"I'm fine!" I growled angrily, wrenching a handful of shafts free from my body. "Fuck off, dwarf!"

The dwarf shrugs, unfazed by my outburst, "Just saying, those arrows are beginning to make you look like a pin-cushion."

My sword slices through the thin cloth covering the archer's body and lops his waist from under his chest, adding to the growing pool of gore under our feet. Lightning crackles through Hawke's hands as he conjures a blast to throw the enemy swordsmen off their feet. These brigands lacked the necessary training to see their ambushes through, which was fortunate for the group. I cannot allow Hawke to die on my watch, otherwise there would be hell to pay when his sister confronts me with the matter. I owe her that much, anyway.

A few minutes later, the battle ends, with us victorious once more. Isabela wipes the blood off her swords and bends down to inspect the corpse of the brigand leader. She whips out a crumpled ball of paper with some ink words scribbled hastily on its page. She frowns upon reading it, "Hiding in the Chantry and sending thugs to finish me off? Coward." The pirate walks in the direction of the cathedral, "He'll not get away with this, come on."

"Here." Varric hands me a bottle of red liquid, "This might help with your wounds."

I push away the gift and fish for the estus flask, "No thank you." The liquid fire purges my system of all injuries and cauterizes the wounds. "I trust my own miscellany than those pathetic excuses for potions."

"Hm, interesting stuff. Where can I get one of those?" Garret asks as we approach the threshold of the church building.

"Ask your Prophetess, maybe one day she'll throw one down from the heavens." I answered, knowing that sentence would be viewed on with skepticism.

The man rolled his eyes, "Fine, forget I asked."

The chantry doors swivel open with a loud creak, we enter cautiously, eyes scanning the large interior for any signs of another ambush. This time, however, it was a less subtle confrontation. A man walks out from behind the Maker's golden image, holding a large sword adorning strange markings from his homeland- probably from Antiva. This was Hayder, the man the pirate was supposed to duel this night. He caused a great fuss for the group, wasting our time, and so that was reason enough for me to kill him. "Isabela. Should've known you'd find me here."

"Tell your men to burn their letters next time." Isabela retorted.

"There won't be a next time." I muttered, clearing my mind to prepare a set of spells for the upcoming battle. I notice Garret do the same, and Varric keep a finger on the crossbow trigger.

"Castillon was heartbroken when he heard about the shipwreck." Hayder paced around in front of his men, all better armed and dressed for the occasion. "You should've let him know you survived."

"It must've slipped my mind."

Hayder chuckles and shakes his head, "Alright, Isabela, where's the relic?"

There was a pause as the pirate girl gauges her words carefully, "I lost it. Castillon's going to have to do without."

"Lost it? Just like you 'lost' a ship full of valuable cargo?"

"They weren't cargo, Hayder! They were people!"

"Those slaves were worth a hundred sovereigns a head, and you let them scurry off into the wilds! And now the relic's gone too, Castillon won't be happy to hear that- I promise you!"

This new bit of information made me frown at the pirate girl, "So, you're a slaver too?" My hand reaches for my sword, "Fucking degenerate."

"First off, I'm not a slaver." Isabela answered, "We can discuss this after we finish off my dueling opponent, then you can decide whether or not you'd have a go at me. Sounds good?"

I grunted as a response and readied myself as she whips out her dagger and throws it at one of Hayder's companions, killing the marauder instantly. The moment the body drops, Hayder and his men rush forward in a reckless assault, spurred on by a mad desire for blood as all pirates do when they lack the skill. I used this to my advantage and walked circles around each opponent I faced in the Chantry. I stabbed, parried, spun around, and tossed in a fireball or two, but never used all of my strength for the battle alone. Since Hawke dragged me along to this unnecessary fight, I'm gonna let him sweat for it.

The Chantry was filled with the noise of battle that I was surprised the city guard or the Templars hadn't shown up at the door by now. Kirkwall had fallen lax in its security, Aveline better step up her game.

It took a damn long while before Hayder and his men were defeated, their bodies were dragged across the church floor and out into the courtyard. I looted my share of coin from the corpses and prepared for my departure, having my fill of this endeavor and desiring a swift return home.

Riven's company was more preferable to me than this lot.

"Leaving already, Langerd?" Garret inquires.

"I've had enough for the night, Hawke." I replied, pushing the heavy doors out of my way. "I'll be ready when the morning comes. Just call when you need my services again."

I hear an amused chuckle from Isabela, "Oh, that just doesn't sound right."

I ignored her and walked out of the Chantry, heading into the main street that will lead me out of Hightown and into Lowtown. Through the dimly lit corridors, I watched with wary eyes on each side, seeing gathered bands of thieves and other scoundrels waiting for their next victims to wander in. They parted from my path when they see the gleam of my sword halfway out of its sheath, much to my satisfaction, and let me pass without incident until I came upon the street where my house stood.

But just as I was about to step into threshold of the inn, a dark portal opens up beneath me, and charred hands reach out from the chasm! They grab onto me and drag me down!

Cursing and struggling for all my worth to get free, I watched helplessly as the portal swallows me up, taking me to an unknown realm to face the forces of darkness.

* * *

I find myself upon a cracked and burning hellscape, where charred skeletons made up segments of the floor. I quickly regain my stance and draw my weapon, glancing about to get some semblance of an idea where I was.

The sky bled with bright red, mirroring the rivers of molten rock that flowed from the towering spires around me. Tormented souls moan in the wind, emanating from half-buried bodies that reached out and clawed at the air, desperate to grasp at something to lift them up from this purgatory.

This was not Limbo, it was an arena, where the Dark One watches me perform to its amusement.

So on one hand, I have the Maker concerned with saving his own skin when armageddon comes, and his malevolent twin who finds joy in thrusting me against his minions like a demented game. I'm not sure which god deserves to stand triumphant in the aftermath of the final war.

Red bolts of lightning strike from the hellish skies, shattering the earth and bringing forth the Dark One's champions.

I knew it was only a matter of time before they would make another attempt at me. But one thing stood out…why now? They had plenty of opportunities to do so before I even met Riven or Andraste. Could it be that they've caught on to the Maker's plan? If so, it seemed the darksign on me beckons great danger. Like a flame that draws the moth, I endanger not only myself but the child in my care as well!

For the moment, I set these thoughts aside, focusing all my attention on the Dark Champions.

Lately, I've faced the Pursuers- the bloodhounds of the Dark One, as they would seem. I've also faced against the Darkwraith knights, hunters called to the chase. But all those pale in comparison to the greater ones at the Destroyer's disposal. Even though I've grown accustomed to death, I began to fear the worst should it come to pass.

The ground gave way to the First, a titan that stood at a good ten feet above me. Yet this was just a hollow vessel. It stood motionless as it rose above the bleeding earth, hunched over and bearing massive twin maces that were easily the size of a grown man. A snake-like creature worms its way out of the magma-encrusted chasm and up into the open chestplate, uttering a brief snarl at me before beckoning the titan to close down on it.

The moment the chestplate shuts, the glyphs on the titan's armor blaze with green light, and the collosus rears back to prepare a devastating blow. I had but a second to react, and I did so quickly, narrowly dodging the attack as the titan barrels past me. So strong was the titan's swing that it broke the floor where I stood and the resulting shockwave threw me across the arena!

I grunted as I hit the wall, picking myself from the tormented souls grabbing onto my arms and moving towards the titan, sword and shield at the ready. "Come on! Is that all you've got?"

In response of my challenge, the chestplate opens, and I see the flash of green emanate from the creature within before a gout of flame spews from its mouth! I crouch low and bring up my shield, feeling the metal heat up from the hellish stream as the titan throws all it had at me.

Gritting my teeth and surmounting all my doubts, I push against the torrent and move ever closer to the titan, straining until I could no longer withstand the heat growing into my armor. I utter a curse as I feel the cloth of my cape catch fire and burn away from my back, grunting in agony as the flames seep into the chainmail, but I stayed true to my course- thrusting my weapon forward all of a sudden and stabbing the titan right in its chest.

The creature stops spewing flames for a moment and wraps itself instinctively over the sword and slithers up my arm. I drop the blade just as the thing lunges for my face! "Gah! Get off me, you son of a bitch!" I growled, feeling its body coil over my neck in an attempt to break it.

There was a brief struggle as I wrestle with the creature, until I managed to wrench it free, only to have the thing wrap around my arm instead. A pause was shared, before I heard the sickening snap of bone breaking and a sharp pain jolt up and down my left shoulder! Snarling in fury, I drop my heated shield and grab onto the snake's head, pulling against it with all the strength my undead limbs could muster. With a broken arm, it was difficult, but I managed to tear the creature in half and end the fight. Ink-black blood spurts from the creature's body, and though dead, it twitches about in my hands.

Heaving with my exertions, I took a moment to rest and drank deeply from the estus flask. That gift of Andraste turned out to be pretty useful, and I was grateful to have it.

The creature had a very strong soul, and I reveled in the feeling of satisfaction it gave when I devoured it. Like a lion savoring the lamb, I took another moment to gaze at my bloody handiwork, then moved on to find a way out of this hellscape. To my surprise, I found a Bonfire sitting outside the arena! A link to the other worlds, and the most convenient means of transportation compared to beast or machine. I smiled and cast my hand over the shrine, frowning with confusion when the flames that erupted from its pyre was as black as night.

The flames danced and rose higher and higher, until the blackness transformed into a malevolent being that could only be the manifestation of Darkness itself!

It had no voice, but the silence was deafening. It had no face, but fear found its icy fingers over my cursed heart. The darksign burns strong on the skin upon my back, driving me to my knees before the Dark One. Nahr Alma reaches into me, his thin and long fingers sinking into my mortal vessel until they dip into the well of souls swirling within me. I felt him taste of the waters, but he withdraws.

Though my intentions in performing Andraste's tasks were noble, I still served the Dark One by default, spilling blood and drinking souls as was the nature of the darksign- which was his creation.

I knew this to be true, and it shames me.

The Dark One departs as quickly as he appears and leaves the bonfire back to its original state. My eyes fall to the sword stuck in the middle of the shrine, and they widen as I realized what Nahr Alma left behind.

It was dark, like obsidian, as the skies when the moon and stars with-held their light. It gleams with eldritch energies as the fires burned around its blade. The handle was of polished silver- or some metal forged from a meteor. Also, it was shorter by a foot compared to my geisteel sword.

A gift from the Dark One himself? Why?

Oh, the irony of it all. He never spoke to me, yet by his actions alone, he claims me as his servant- the same way the Maker did when he plucked me from the woods in Orlais. At least in that instance, Andraste was around to smoothen things out.

Should I accept this gift? Or turn it away?

My hand was already upon its hilt, and I feel as though the blade called to me. The better half of me remained strongly against it, but the other…the beckoning was too strong. I pick the obsidian blade from the bonfire and hold it up, finding the beauty in its malevolent gleam. The moment I accept the weapon, I felt some piece of me detach and enter the blade, much like an inexplicable bonding ritual. It left me unharmed, but doubting the wisdom guiding my actions.

I kneel before the bonfire and thought of the last place I've been in Thedas- the threshold of my house- and allowed the mists of time and space to wrap around me.

 **}!{**


	22. Memento of the Past Part One

**}!{**

The darkness gives way to the dawn upon my return to the plane of Thedas. The threshold of the humble shack I called home remained as it was, much to my relief.

My gaze falls upon the blade in my hand, uncertainty takes hold of my mind as I regarded the darkness pulsating within the unearthly metal. It seemed to whisper malevolent thoughts, emanating a tangible thirst for life.

All weapons have this similar purpose, but this one was different.

The door slides open, and Bethany steps out with a clay chamberpot in her hands. She was just about the empty its contents into the large pit that connected to the city's sewers when she spots me kneeling upon the Lowtown street. "Langerd? What are you doing here?"

I tuck the obsidian blade into my belt and stand, choosing to keep to myself what just transpired in the dark realm. "I aided your brother as requested. Had to leave early though, he wasted the day finishing favors for someone else." My boots stomp loudly as I entered the house, "What about you? Has Riven given you any trouble?"

"Not at all, sweet girl that she is." She replied with a smile, turning the handle on the faucet to let the cisternal water wash down on the chamberpot and proceeded to scrub it clean of the filth. "I began teaching her the alphabet since you've left, but she tires easily. We finished early, I tucked her in for the night."

I looked up and listened to the soft sighs of the slumbering child, "That is good. Thank you." My hand reaches for the copper coins in my bag, but Bethany stops me.

"No, there's no need for that." The woman says as she places the chamberpot in the lavatory. "You can pay me another time. This one's for free."

I eyed her suspiciously, but did as she said. "Very well, I shall accept your generous offer. Same time next week then?"

"Never doubt it."

But as Bethany turned to leave, a dozen or so shadowed figures leaped from the nearby alleys and rooftops. Judging from their lack of stature, I guessed them to be dwarves- Carta to be precise as Varric described.

"That's one of them." The leader pointed at Bethany, "Kill her! We only need her blood!"

The swords at my disposal make a shrill scrape as I drew them out. I was in no mood for another scrap, but if these dwarves were here to make an attempt on Riven's caretaker I'd be more than happy to oblige. "The only blood that will be spilled this night will be yours."

"Kill him too." The leader declared, and the others readied their weapons. "And by Corypheus, make it quick."

The street erupts in a ball of fire- literally- as I toss a flash of flame in the middle of the cobblestone flecked battleground. The flash caught two of the Carta dwarves by surprise and set them on fire, turning them to ash within seconds! Bethany snaps into action, displaying her inhibited magical powers and fraying her assailants' minds with a telekenetic blast. Arrows and crossbow bolts rained from above, shot from the shafts of eager dwarven snipers. The missiles dug deep into my armor, but never truly pierced it no matter how many struck my body.

Enraged that they would intrude upon the serenity of this place, I tore through the ranks of the small force they brought in. The leader engaged me in the melee, weaving in and out quicker than his stocky body implied. He was a whirlwind of steel and iron, blades cutting quick wherever I failed to parry.

He stabbed at my knees, forcing me down to his level, then dove in with his twin daggers that stuck straight through my chest!

The bradden steel gives way to the enchanted weapons, but I was far from removed from this battle. His eyes gave away his premature jubilance, and he reveled in his percieved victory as he watched my blood trickle forth from the burst wounds. I took siezed the moment and dug my fingers into his throat, rising to my full height as I crushed the little man's neck in my hand.

The dwarf struggles futilely as my grip tightens, slowly but surely bringing flesh and muscle down on the spine until it caved in from the pressure. A sickening snap followed as I broke both his windpipe and his neck. His body makes a final shudder as life leaves him in a flash.

In the background, I heared Riven's frantic cries for help. She had left the safety of her room at the sound of the battle, perhaps fearing for her Papa's life. Initially, I was greatly infuriated by her foolish actions, but stayed my voice when the shack suddenly bursts into flames!

Something combustible had caught on fire in the midst of the confusion and rendered our home as such.

The survivors of the scrap, most of which stood in the safety of the rooftops, beheld the deaths of their comrades. They made the wise decision of falling back, then disappeared into the night.

Once the fire of battle died out, my wounds finally gave voice to their lack of attention, sending wave after wave of pain into my brain as they remained exposed to the open air. "Fuck!" I groaned, clutching tightly at the gashes in my chest as I fished for the estus flask.

The bottle falls from my shaky grip and rolls onto the street. The pain proved too much, and I fall forward, body ready to succumb to its injuries. Thankfully, Bethany did not act too much like an idiot and sprung forward to my aid. She picks up the estus flask and pops the lid off, placing the mouth of the bottle to my lips so I could taste the liquid fire within.

The estus does its work and mends my wounds, bringing me back to full strength within minutes. That would be the last time in a while I would be able to use the flask, so I made it a point not to suffer any more grievous wounds the next time I dive into the fray.

"Papa! Are you alright?" Riven cried out, running to my side and helping me to my feet.

I ignored her, eyes glaring at the ruins of our home. "Just my damn luck. All the coin, and all our belongings- in flames. Now what?"

A frantic mewl from Riven's cat turns the young girl's attention to the critter. She picks up the orange-furred creature and buries her face into the singed hairy bundle, "Mr. Fuzzypants! I thought I lost you!"

"The dwarf said I was 'one of them'." Bethany reflected on the Carta assassin's words, her eyes widened with fear as the thought crossed her mind. "Langerd, come with me! Mother may be in danger too!"

Left with little else to do, I did as was asked and followed Bethany through the empty streets of Kirkwall down to the deepest part of Lowtown where Bethany's family lived. Sure enough, another battle was being fought just outside their little house when we arrived.

Garret was busy fending off the Carta dwarves alongside Varric and the elf bloodmage Merill. The door to their shack was locked securely with the Hawke mother and uncle barricaded safely inside. The fereldan mage sowed fire and ice with an aggression I've never seen before, an inborn trait in all sons when the matter concerns family- I knew what that meant.

I joined in the battle with Bethany close by, leaving Riven to take refuge close to the inns. Enraged over the loss of my hard-earned coin and valuables, I butchered the dwarves with a savagery so great, it caused more than enough heads to turn. Blood and viscera adorned my ruined armor as my blades severed limbs and heads from their bodies, innards spilling in torrents as I eviscerated stomachs. Even after I had laid waste to the Carta dwarves assaulting the Hawke family, my heart burned for more souls to add to the flame.

As the group took a minute to catch their breath, Garret immediately sifted through the bodies for clues leading to the source of this attack. What he found were pieces of paper, torn or wrinkled from use. These, he handed over to Varric for decyphering, knowing that the merchant prince had reliable sources that could show us the way.

I approved of this, feeling the gnawing need to repay the scoundrels for their insolence.

"Langerd, I didn't expect to see you so soon." Garret remarked upon seeing me, "Thank you for your help."

"Do not talk to me about gratitude!" I snarled, "These dwarves came for you, and only you. But damn it all, you had to drag us into this too!"

"Oh so you're saying this is my fault?!" Garret retorted, "You speak as if I asked for these things to happen! Throw your blame elsewhere, Langerd."

"Yet here stands the results!" I growled, hand gripping tight upon the handle of my blade. "I and Riven are homeless, with not a single coin to our name- even if I should dig through the ashes!"

"Calm down you two!" Bethany intervened, much to my annoyance. "If there is one to blame, it is the Carta dwarves. Neither you, Langerd, or my brother has fault in this. We're both victims here." When the both of us calmed a bit, she spoke again. "Look, Varric's going to figure out where they've come from. Once he's got something, we've got a chance to strike back and keep this thing from ever happening again."

"My concern primarily lies on the child." I pointed out, "Vengeance is secondary, what of Riven?"

"She can stay with us." Liandra Hawke, Garret's mother, offered. "There's more than enough room for all of us." Gamlen, the Hawkes' horrid uncle, tried to protest. But backs out when Liandra silences him with a glare.

I let my temper get the better of me again, but I was too proud to admit it. Seething, yet remaining silent, I stormed off to cool my head.

* * *

How long I sat upon the docks of Lowtown, I didn't care enough to count, but by the time I lifted my gaze to see, dawn had already broken the night. The sun rose to greet me with its divine rays, so I responded with the ancient pose- Praising the Sun.

I found the Hawkes readying themselves for departure. This preparation, however, looked to be for a long journey. Two horses were packed with blankets and an adequate supply of food that would last at least a week or so. The Hawkes had no coin to spend on the creatures, so I assumed it was a favor given by the newly appointed Guard Captain Aveline Valen. At the sight of this, I questioned Garret's motives. "Have you forgotten your tasks here, Hawke? What of the missing templar recruits, and this matter concerning blood magic?"

"I'm putting my family first." He replied, "Varric's got a lead on where these attacks came from. I'm going to take the fight to them and put a stop to this. Besides, I won't be abandoning the tasks here. Aveline's going to take it from here, she's more than capable of handling the situation alongside the Templars."

"You should come too." Bethany offered, "We'll need all the help we can get."

"And why would I do that?" I frowned, "Leaving Riven is the worst thing I could do at this time when she needs me most."

"You're not leaving her for no reason." Garret said, tying up the last of the supplies to his horse. "Coming along with us makes a speedy end to this matter, and besides, I imagine you'd want some payback after what they've done to you."

I pondered on this for a minute, "Hmm…yes." Payback's good. From my experience, Nahr Alma's dark forces pursue Riven only because of me. I am the flame that attracts the moths. In truth, she's never safe anywhere. But leaving her for the week to attack these dwarves lessens the chances of another assault by our enemies. I owe little to the Hawke family, and even though I've relinquished my knighthood the day Heide sank into the seas, what kind of a man am I if I've relinquished the values of a knight as well? "Very well. You're short of one shieldbearer anyway."

"Papa?" Riven tugs on the edges of my chainmail, "Are you going to fight the bad people too?"

I knelt before the child and place my hand on her shoulder, "Yes, little one. I…Papa's going to help Garret. We're going to be gone for a couple of weeks, but when I come back, I promise I'll find a home for both of us."

"A castle?"

I chuckle at the dreamy little girl. Yet this promise wasn't that far out of reach to fulfill. I've set my eyes on an old castle in the cliffs near the unexplored part of Kirkwall, perhaps a garrison in olden times. "Yes, princess. A castle, for me and you."

"Bye, Papa." Riven reaches forward and wraps her little arms around my neck, "Be nice to Mr. Hawke, okay?"

I rolled my eyes and pat her back, "No promises."

I gather what little remained of my equipment from the ashes of our old shack and joined the little band on their way out of the city. The group composed mainly of the Hawke siblings, Varric and the newcomer Isabela. Garret chose wisely and joined a caravan leaving for the Vimmark mountains, knowing that the trail would be beset heavily by bandits and other horrifying creatures.

 **}!{**


	23. Memento of the Past Part Two

**}!{**

The sun beat down harshly on the cracked earth, robbing it of what little water that remained within its veins. I could tell the same could be said of the rest of the group, whose supply of refreshments have gone dry within the six days of our departure from Kirkwall.

I could hear the Hawke siblings whining quietly about their parched throats and sore feet. Typical city-people, no stamina for long journeys. From the look of the map they brought with them the trek into the Vimmark wastes, where Varric's sources point out the origin of the attacks, wasn't yet done. At this rate, I may be the only one left standing by the time the quest was over.

"How the hell…" Isabela swallowed painfully, "…are you still feeling so peachy after all that?"

"Don't talk." I replied, "Your thirst will get worse." Since the group was driven to the point of stumbling, I kept my eyes out for any wells or even small ponds so they won't die out prematurely.

Hours passed, then we heard a loud mournful whinny from the pack horse, followed by a dull thud as it hit the dirt, never to rise again. The thirst had overcome the poor creature sooner than us, a sure sign that we had to find water soon or we would all join the horse in death. I fared better, with a body marked by undeath. The only thirst I felt at the moment was from the lack of souls required to sustain my ever-hungering body.

I helped carry what little supplies were left on the sacks and lead the others onward. We came upon a sundered mountain pass, ravaged by the elements until the walls had smoothened out, and entered a wide valley where what looked like a small city stood in the middle. Varric and I took a brief glance at the map marked by his trusted sources and came to the conclusion that we've finally arrived at the place.

"Take heart, woman." I said to Isabela, "You will soon fill your mouth with water and your pockets with gold by day's end."

"I hope so." The pirate coughed, "This sun's hell on my throat."

"Your plan, Hawke?" I inquired, eager to get this over with. "I imagine you'd want some answers first before sullying your blade with the blood of your enemies?"

"A brief one would suffice." Garret answered, "Come on, we mustn't keep them waiting."

We entered the pass and into the gates of the city. Varric remarked on how the structures were shaped according to a make distinctive only to him, indicative of ancient dwarven presence. Whoever they were, as far as I was concerned, they weren't around anymore to bother us.

As we neared the gates that would let us into the enclosure, I caught sight of shadowed figures suddenly moving away from the fallen pillars and collapsed idols. "Look! The Carta have people watching us!"

"They know we're here now." Varric pulled out his crossbow and locked in a bolt. Everyone else gets ready for trouble, following his example. My hand reaches for the obsidian blade, but I hesitate as I hear a chorus of faint whispers emanate from its hilt. It was as if the blade sensed the battle that was to come and was eager to drink its fill.

I've handled my fair share of cursed weapons back on Drangleic, many of which were bestowed upon by the malevolent blessings of Nahr Alma himself, but not like this one. Yet, I was not one to refrain from using such tools of destruction. Gripping the sword and dragging it out of its sheath, I cast aside all my doubts and walked in step with Bethany and Garret.

When we walked into the pass, I couldn't help but feel we were walking into a trap. Usually, that feeling was not out of paranoia, and more than once proved true as felt. The Carta dwarves, bearing the similar garb of their organization, were waiting for us at the threshold leading into the city.

"You!" Their leader stepped forward once his eyes fell upon Garret. "The brother and sister both! You are here together! You have come!"

I threw the siblings a quick glance, they too were confused. Then, I remembered the words of the dwarf I slew back in Kirkwall. Why were they after the Hawkes?

The leader turned to his fellows and announced excitedly, "Everyone! It is the children of Malcolm Hawke! They have come to us!"

"What does my father have to do with this?" Garret demanded, growing agitated at the mention of the name. I too showed interest at this turn of events, witnessing a thickening of this story's plot.

"It began with him, and ends with you!" The leader rambled, "Blood for blood, that's what we were told!"

"Did father cross the Carta somehow?" Bethany mused.

"We will take it, Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!" The leader declared, signalling his men to attack. But before they could draw their weapons, Hawke and his sister had already cast their spells, reducing them to ash at the flick of a wrist.

I raised my shield to block the arrows launched from the snipers perched atop the pillars, drawing their fire to me so Varric could get a clean shot. Bianca does what she does best and never fails to contribute to the party, felling dwarf after dwarf with each volley.

I protected Varric as he paused to reload, then we repeated the act. Six times I bore the brunt of the assault, and six times we prevailed, moving ever closer to the entrace leading further into the city- and to the place where our answers lay.

"All this fighting's making me even more thirsty!" Isabela complained, drawing back to take pause from the battle. "Slow down, I have to catch my breath."

Garret holds out his hand over the waterskin cap and conjures an ice spike, melting it down with a flash of flame to give the captain the mouthful of water she so craved. "Here, take a drink, but we'll need you up there when we get to the doors."

"Oh, what a gentleman." Isabela smiled gratefully, "Thanks."

I charged down the path with my shield raised, shouting furiously as I slammed the Carta out of the way until I hit a wall. The ancient stone shatters on impact, and it took a good deal of strong yanking before I dislodged the shield out of the crack it buried itself into. Arrows struck the armor of my chest and back, yet I barely felt the sting of those barbs as they dug into my skin. With mind and heart aflame with the fervor of battle, I let my rage consume the enemy with blood and steel, turning the dry and silent desert wet with warm ichor and filled with screams of the dying dwarves.

No one else could see it, but I knew the obsidian blade sapped at the life-force of all it struck and transferred that vitality to me. The blade itself, once black as night, now shimmered with crimson as it drank the blood spilled upon the battlefield. A more conservative man would have cast the weapon aside upon seeing this, but not me. In fact, I was no longer worried. This weapon would aid me greatly in the fray, where wounds grow thickest. I cared not about its foul origins anymore.

It serves me, that is all that matters.

With a loud roar, I kicked down the heavy steel-rimmed doors and entered the enclosure where I was certain more of the dwarves were stationed. To my surprise, the enclosure proved to be the housing for the dwarven beasts of burden. The bronto, rhino-like bulls responsible for carrying merchant loads and quarried stone, turned their blurred eyes on me and started a mad dash at what they percieved to be a great threat to their lives.

Finesse was not my strongest trait, but resilience more than made up for it. I met the bronto charge head on, grounding the beasts to a halt as I pushed the shield against their bent heads. The force of the impact stunned me for a minute, but I recovered just in time to show the bronto who was the superior creature in this battlefield.

I brought down the obsidian blade and it effortlessly cuts through the beast's tough hide, spilling blood all over the cracked earth as I tore a gaping hole through its throat. The bronto squeals like a pig and bucks wildly, breaking away from me with the obsidian blade still stuck through its neck and retreating to the walls of the small arena. It doesn't get far, losing that much life from its wounds, and it collapses onto the dirt.

Its partner follows soon after.

"They're after our blood, why?" Bethany exclaimed, "And what does this all have to do with father?"

"I guess we'll get that answer from Corypheus." I replied, "Anyone with a name like that spells trouble, but at least we're getting closer to uncovering the source of these attacks." As I moved to head deeper into the canyon where the fortress lay, I was stopped by the Hawke siblings. They were exhausted after days of travel, even more so that they've had to face the Carta in this battle. Inwardly, I was irked at how soft the party was compared to me, but I reminded myself that I too was once like them. They were not marked with undeath and all the advantages that came with it, they were mortal. "Fine, we rest for the night then."

"We're in luck too." Garret pointed out, drawing my attention to the stone structure sticking out of the ground, hidden by a large tarp. "The Carta were kind enough to dig up this well for us."

"Finally!" Isabela exclaimed, rushing to fill her stores with the life-giving waters. It spills from her mouth as she guzzles the whole collection down, turning dry skin glossy with its waters and white cloth dark as it dampens the top of her longcoat.

"Who's hungry?" Bethany asks as she gets the fire going, "I saved some salted venison from the pack horse, Maker rest its poor soul."

Garret stops to drag the dwarven carcasses away from the campsite and into a ditch nearby, "Not so fast, let's get these corpses out of the way first. I don't want the buzzards bothering us when we turn in for the night."

I agreed with his thoughts and aided him in clearing the battlefield, pausing to loot them of valuables before dumping them into that shallow grave. The ravens and vultures watched from the branches of dead trees as we worked, eager to set upon the feast of flesh before them.

The dwarves carried little gold on their persons, sadly, but every coin counts. I knew Garret would demand I divide the spoils among the group to keep everything fair, so I looted as much as I could. Silver necklaces, miniature ivory idols and golden images of their ancestors, a tiny gem or two, I packed them all in a small bag to divide later.

Isabela, of course, proved too impatient for her own good. She dove in to select the best of the loot, taking the gems for herself. "Ah, hello there my little friends." She tucks them into the pouch resting close to her sash and rejoins the others for the evening meal.

In the desert, darkness falls quicker than most places, as we soon found out. The dim light of the crackling flames served as the only illumination in the wilderness, for the moon and stars refused to give their light.

The others watch me as I distance myself from them, grunting softly as I started picking the arrowheads out of my body. One glance at the elixir told me that the supply of estus had run out for the day. I have grown accustomed to taking a drink every now and then that I haven't paid much attention to its status.

My body will have to heal on its own.

I lifted the tattered cloak along with the battered and torn chainmail armor off my chest, revealing to the flickering light the heavily scarred body of a cursed man. The wounds have begun their slow process of closing once the blood had been wiped clean off my skin, they bite and they scream at me everytime I dab at them with the damp cloth.

"Do you need healing, Langerd?" Bethany offered.

"If you're not too tired, why not?" I grunted, allowing the younger woman to slide her hands over my horrid form. A calming green light flows out as the magic works over the wounds, a process slower than the quick flash of healing the estus provided that I've grown accustomed to. Nevertheless, I was grateful for her generosity.

As Bethany healed me, I couldn't help but be bothered by the kind of gaze Isabela was throwing me. Her teeth bit softly upon her lower lip, and her eyes betrayed a hidden lust behind their brown orbs.

Bethany finishes her work and returns to the fire. Away from the rest of the group, Isabela continues to stare, and I frowned, returning that wanting gaze with a baleful glare. "Why are you looking at me like that, woman?"

"Mmn." A sound of approval escapes her as she moves her hand slowly to her thighs. They part ways just enough to let the heat escape her loins, "I like what I see."

Offended by her improper behavior, yet reining in my anger for her sake, I calmly let her know what I thought of the matter. "Isabela, I do not appreciate this gesture."

Isabela pouts mockingly, getting to her feet as she approached me. Unashamed and bold as she was, the seductress stalked what she percieved was a hapless prey just begging to have her claws in him. "Is it a crime to admire such a strapping figure? My my, look at those arms. I bet you're as well endowed in other places." Her smile grows as she closes the distance, and my frown darkens.

"What sort of man do you take me for?!" I growled, rising up to take my leave before the exchange turns awkward. Had I been mortal, I would've fallen for the woman's charms easily. But I was an undead- my needs lie not of the wants of the flesh, but the wants of the soul. "Cast your net elsewhere, you won't find fish in these waters!"

Isabela laughs as she places her hand on my bare chest, "That's what they always say and I always prove them wrong." She moves in, and before I knew it, started nibbling at my ear as she whispered lewd and nasty things to me.

The sheer insolence of her! Even out here, in the open wilderness! Does her profanity know no bounds?

I take her hands firmly in my own and pushed her away. "Leave, harlot." I hissed, "This is your only warning. Make your advance on me one more time and I will squeeze the life out of you."

I take note of the shock in her eyes and added, "You've seen what I've done to these dwarves today. You have had but a glimpse of my true potential. You know I make no empty threats." She withdraws, much to my relief, for I would take no pleasure in following through with what I've said. Isabela leaves my presence and rejoins the others around the fire, acting as if nothing happened.

Good. She should get used to rejection.

I turn away from the others and enjoyed the solitude the night brought with it, staying awake through it all and keeping watch even as the others turned in to sleep. My mind was filled with thoughts of Riven and the cause that I follow that brought me this far into Vimmark.

I missed her, that's the truth. There's just something about her bubbly personality that made this cursed life of mine more bearable. Andraste gave me the gift of parenthood, though Riven and I were not of blood, and I would treasure it like none other.

 **}!{**


	24. Memento of the Past Part Three

**}!{**

 _The sun warms my skin with its majestic rays as the clouds made way for its place in the sky. For a moment, I stayed to revel in the serenity of the morning, a rare thing in this cursed existence of mine._

" _Papa! Catch me!" I hear Riven's joyous cry as she runs towards me across a field of flowers, giggling gleefully as I pick her up in one swoop when she leaps over an outstretched rock. The child embraces me, absolutely bursting with love as she showers me with affectionate kisses._

 _I felt my lips twitch into a smile of true serenity, holding my daughter that way. It was almost enough to fill that hole in my heart…almost._

* * *

The sun warms my skin with its baleful rays as it tore its way into the sky. The moment of serenity left with my dreams, reminding me of the cursed existence that I must endure for all eternity.

My eyes take in the dry desert around me, filled with the remains of the battle we had fought the other day against the Carta. Peace vanished, replaced by that old resentment that had hardened my heart for centuries.

No matter how much I deceive myself, no matter how good the lie, the fact remains. I am an undead; forever without hope, forever without light. And yet, I find joy in these delusions. The purpose granted to me by Andraste, the fellowship of these 'friends' of mine, even the love of the child in my care.

They are as empty as the souls I devour.

Even so, I carry on in spite of this burden. Quickly, I don my armor and moved to wake the others. We still had a long way to go, so I thought it wise to break camp as soon as possible.

I nudge Garret and his sister with my foot, rousing them from their slumber. "Get up, time's wasting." Their groggy eyes blink up at me, and it takes a few minutes before they could come to their senses. The camp was broken down swiftly, and we resumed our journey into the dwarven fortress, wary of the ambushes the Carta may have set up along the way.

"So Langerd, when are you going to teach me about the magicks of Heide?" Garret asked, helping me move some stones that have fallen into the fortress entrance, torn from the mountains by some form of landslide.

"When have I ever promised to do that, Hawke?" I grunted in annoyance.

"Have you forgotten? Just barely two weeks ago, you said you'd do so- if I get to know you better. I believe now's a good time as any." The young man informed, "So, are we doing this?"

Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be persuaded in obliging his request. "Very well, I suppose the battlefield's the best training ground one can have. The better question should be, are you up for it?"

The group stops short when Varric shouts out a warning. The merchant prince spotted three pressure-plates that would undoubtedly trigger the Carta traps set up in the walls and floor. Though he works quickly to disarm the traps, it didn't stop the alarms from alerting the Carta to our presence. Hawke answers me later as he draws out his staff, "I can take anything you throw at me."

I chuckled at the man, finding his confidence worthy of note. "Then let us begin. Lesson number one; sheathe your staff."

"What?" Garret throws me a quizzical glance, but then does as he was told when I throw a stern one in return. He sheathes his staff and readies his open palms to begin casting spells.

"Magic is the breath of creation and has no limits to its power." I schooled the man in the arcane arts of Heide, sticking to simple instructions since he already mastered the basics. "Your doubt in your own potential is your only obstacle. Think of the flames in your hands; they sputter and spark like one upon tinder, and yet they can also burn as hot as the sun! Will it to form, Hawke!"

His fingers flexed inwards, fanning the flames to white hot balls that would melt even the hardiest bradden steel.

"Will it to form, think not of the mana that fuels it!" I sounded like a drill instructor, "Your staves make you weak! They are crutches given to those who can walk, chains that hinder your true potential! Burn your enemies and see the power you hold!"

The party didn't even need to engage the Carta dwarves. They, all thirty strong warriors, were reduced to ash within seconds of pouring out of the dilapidated shacks nearby. The earth around the site was scorched to blackened crimson, a sight that seemed to frighten the man out of his desire to strengthen his magical prowess. "Maker's breath! What the hell did I just do?"

"You've incinerated your foes with a thought." I concluded, "You all have been fighting half-heartedly this whole time. You are fortunate to have met me, to realize what you're capable of." I noted the fear in his eyes, and I frowned.

Bethany too was visibly shaken by the display, "This is why magic is dangerous, brother. I apologize on Garret's behalf, Langerd, but this idea was bad from the start."

"Is it? Really?" I looked at them all in contempt, "The teachings of the Chantry have made you weak. The templars have brought fear into your hearts. You have a choice to let these things define you, enslave you to the whims of lesser men, waste the power you were born with." I regarded the determined look on Garret's face and added, "Or, you can throw off these shackles and embrace what a true mage is all about. If so, come. There is much for you to learn, and more for me to offer."

Although the reluctance was largely on Bethany's part, it did not stop the Hawke siblings from soaking up the knowledge I imparted to them. It surprised me to find out just how backward mages were in this realm, and it disgusted me even more to know that this was born from the Chantry's teachings.

Magic should not be feared nor inhibited, for it is like controlling the flames of a furnace. One can wield it to purpose as easily as unleashing it upon the world, turning all to ash in the blink of an eye- such is the danger of the nature of man. Andraste had the right idea of setting order over magic in her time, but had she gauged her words carefully it would have been a different story for the world today.

Foolish woman. Thedas could have been so much more.

* * *

We entered the doors of the fortress, passing the charred and frozen remains of the Carta guardsmen who attempted to seal themselves in. Hawke was a quick student, picking up immediately wherever I instructed. I was impressed by the man's talent, but kept the lessons simple.

There was no need to reveal all at once. The little things I teach him today are enough to trump the lessons of the most gifted scholia arcanas. What I focused instead was guiding Hawke to tempering his resolve, for I noticed that while his power was commendable, his stamina for the lessons was sorely lacking.

"Wait!" He called out, staggering backwards as the last spell took the wind out of him. "I need a moment!"

Isabela returned the favor he had done her earlier and gave him her waterskin. From there, Garret took a long drink to cool his heated body. "Thanks."

"Don't pass out on me, boy." I said sternly, "We're just getting started."

"What?" Hawke gasped incredulously.

When we entered a room filled with mining carts storing unprocessed lyrium, a dwarven apprentice rushed in to block our path. His eyes, like the rest of his fellows, was glassy and corroded by some sort of cursed cataract. "The Hawke's blood! The Master will rise- he will be free!"

Everyone else readied up for the upcoming battle, but Varric stopped short, apparently recognizing the dwarf. "Gerav?"

"V-Varric?!" The dwarf too recognized the merchant prince. "No one told me you would be part of this! We…we were just going after the Hawke!"

"Friend of yours, Varric?" I inquired impatiently. Introductions were brief. Gerav was a one-time friend of Varric's, a brilliant engineer who designed Bianca- Varric's crossbow. I didn't care to know the details, I just wanted this over and done with. "Doesn't matter. He's after Hawke, he dies."

"I suppose." Varric sighed, readying his trusty weapon. "Bianca, I think it's time to say goodbye." The bolt he let loose was too slow for the engineer, who vanished in a cloud of smoke, reappearing a few meters away with two other Carta assassins at his side. "Reinforcements! You bastard!"

"Burn, you miserable insects!" I bellowed, demonstrating to the party what pyromancy was all about. The soul furnace roars to life, immolating me in a cloak of flame as I bore down and visited my wrath upon the dwarves. Those who were foolish enough to get close found themselves set ablaze and sent staggering back, leaving themselves open to the obsidian blade as I hacked and slashed my way through the room.

Arrows promptly snapped and crumbled to burnt tinder as they flew into me. "It is your blood that flows today!" I shouted, stomping towards Gerav as his companions fell to me one by one.

Gerav's eyes widened with fear as my gauntleted hand closes in on his throat, still ablaze with blue fire. The heated metal sears dwarven flesh, and he screams as I tighten my grip. The stench of burning skin wafted into my nostrils as the flames ate away at the engineer, slowly turning his head and neck to a marred and hideous pile of burnt matter. I had only to squeeze a bit more before his head bursts apat like a squashed melon.

Dwarven blood coats my hands and hisses as it cools the heated metal surface of my gauntlets. The engineer's twisted soul broke free from its vessel and joins the others swirling within me. Varric knelt beside the ruined form of his old friend and sighed bitterly, "You poor, stupid bastard. I used to do business with the Carta back in the day, Gerav was a nutcase then too, but in a good way. He was trying to design a new type of repeating crossbow. Bianca was the only one that ever worked." The merchant prince shook his head sadly and got to his feet, "I can't believe he ended up like that."

"They all keep talking about this _master_ \- this Corypheus." I mused, "The more I hear of it, the more unsettling this whole business gets."

"I doubt that'll be the last of them." Garret agreed, "Come on, we still have a lot of ground to cover. I'm certain we'll find our answers soon enough."

We entered the next room, expecting to find a larger Carta force waiting for us. As the steel grated doors lifted to allows us entrance, we found that our expectations were not so far out. A dwarven warlord, dressed in brass armor, stood in the middle of the room. He patted his bronto, the beast geared for battle, and addressed the Hawke siblings. "Hawke, they told me you were going to be trouble. And look! You brought the whole family, how generous. I swore to Corypheus I'd deliver to him Malcolm Hawke's blood, one way or the other!"

"What does this have to do with my father?" Garret attempted diplomacy, but gained a curt and unsatisfactory answer.

"The master wants you, I don't ask why."

"So they don't have the answers." I scoffed, counting the dwarven archers nocking their arrows above us. "Better waste them while we have the chance."

"Corypheus!" The dwarven leader declared, brandishing his heavy axe. "We have done as you command, your sacrifice is here! You will see the surface once more!"

"Shield yourselves!" I growled out at Hawke, "About time I turn up the heat in here!"

It took a few seconds before Garret took my meaning and acted accordingly, channelling all his mana to build up an elemental protective bubble around the party. Bethany aids him in his endeavor, I took the chance to prime up my own magic, calling on the most powerful spell in my arsenal to lay waste to the Carta dwarves. The firestorm erupts like a raging volcano, a manifestation of the wrath and ire of its creator, sending geysers of molten rock and flames streaming out of the ground and walls! The dwarves too slow to react were destroyed in a flash, whereas those fortunate enough to move out of the way were soon blinded by the brilliance emanating from the firestorm.

The dwarven leader sends forth his bronto, letting the beast occupy my attention as he rallies his disoriented allies to his side. The hulk bellows loudly, absolutely frightened out of its wits by the sudden shower of flames bursting all around it, and goes on a rampage.

The shattered earth quakes at the bronto's footfalls as it stomps its way towards me, ramming headfirst into my chest as it charges. The bradden steel chestplate holds true, though suffers a slight dent as the bronto's horn buries itself inwards. Hawke comes to my aid and freezes the beast in its charge with a well placed gust of frost, rooting it to the ground and allowing me the opportunity to bury my blade into its side.

The obsidian blade cuts finely into the hard flesh of the bronto, but does not kill it outright. It squeals like a stuck pig and bucks, breaking its icy prison as it thrusts and kicks wildly.

Isabela, gauging a chance to strike all this time, leaps onto the bronto's back, using her trusty swords to poke at its weakpoints. As we worked to bring the beast down, I noticed the dwarven archers take aim on the distracted pirate captain, letting loose a hail that would undoubtedly kill her had I not acted quickly!

With a flick of my wrist, I turn Isabela's flesh to iron, drastically impairing her movement but saving her life as the arrows bounced off harmlessly from her transmutated skin. She throws me a quizzical glance and slid off the now-dead bronto, moving ever so sluggishly as she helps me take on the dwarven leader.

"Blood for the earth!" I screamed, feeling those arrows bite into my flesh again. "Blood for the sky!" I fell upon the dwarven leader, relentlessly raining blow after blow until his axe broke in two. "Bleed for us! For all that bleeds may die!"

An arrow impales itself through my neck, bypassing the mail cowl guarding that area of flesh, and robs me of air. I taste blood in my mouth as a crucial artery was severed along with my windpipe, struggling to finish the fight before I pass out from the loss of blood. I managed to bury my sword into the dwarven leader's chest as I staggered forward, slowly succumbing to my injuries and too far gone for healing to save.

I was past due my share of death.

"Langerd!" I heard Bethany call my name, her voice muffled by my failing ears. She tries desperately to heal me, pull me back from the brink, but I knew it was too late. "No! No! Stay with me!"

I try to speak, but the words were blocked by the flood forming in my throat. This was not my end, but how would they react when they see me again? Things may not be as similar as that meeting I've had with Aedan back in Fereldan. Through the dizzying haze of my dying mind, through the obstruction in my neck, I managed to wheeze out a few short sentences.

"I'll…be back." I groaned, "Carry on…without me." She does not understand what I was trying to say. Too bad.

The darkness takes me. The last thing I hear from the grief-stricken woman was of her concern over the child I left in Kirkwall. "What the hell am I supposed to tell Riven?"

 **}!{**


	25. Malcolm's Will Part One

**}!{**

" _ **Brave undead…I forbid you to die."**_

I am Hollow.

I can feel it, my own soul, slipping away.

" _ **You have yet to fulfill your quest…Come back to me…come back to life."**_

I try to move my arms, but for some reason was unable to. Thick stones were pressing down on me like some kind of prison. What is this?

Ah yes. They…the people I was with…they buried me.

" _ **Langerd…Knight of Heide…your Prophetess summons you."**_

* * *

I push through the shallow surface of the grave and rose to level ground, suddenly blinded by the brilliance of the desert sun as it cast its baleful rays upon my rotted face. They buried me in my armor…had the decency to drag me out of that place where I died…then placed my belongings on top of the pile of stones that formed my tomb.

I gasped, finding it difficult to breath with that hole in my throat.

How did I get that?

I sat still in my grave for so long trying to recollect the vanishing memories that the vulture waddled in closer to peck at me. In a flash, I grab on to it by the throat, breaking its spine in two places and nourishing my rotten body with its soul.

Oh…right. An arrow through my neck. I remember now.

The Hawke brother and sister, Garret and Bethany. That pirate harlot, Isabela. Varric Tethras, the merchant prince with a fancy crossbow.

I groaned, casting aside the bird corpse and rising above the grave. I had to find them, and soon.

My gaze flits to my surroundings, eyes wide when I realized they took the time to drag me out of the Carta fortress and into the dunes outside. It will take me a long while before I catch up to them, if barely a day has gone by.

My body had ripened to the point that maggots have started eating away at the dead flesh. This was not the first time I have become Hollow, but each time was a revolting experience. Faint echoes of life pulsate within me, I could feel those little worms wriggling under my skin and smell the stench of rot upon me. Yet again, I was called upon by Andraste. She dragged me back from the brink, and for that, I thank her. The curse of undeath has been staved, for now.

I must complete my quest. The party needs me.

Stumbling on legs made soft by the rot, I sheath my weapons and moved for the Carta fortress, relying on fragments of my memories to find the path I took with them. By now, they will have reached deeper into the dwarven lair.

I walk over the decaying corpses of the slain, past the ruined doors and scorched hallways. I paused over the torn carcass of the dwarven leader slain in the past battle, taking a moment to recall the events that transpired in that room, then moved on to cover more ground.

There were more bodies left in the party's wake, didn't come as a surprise to me, I was just glad to see Hawke was making good use of what I taught him. Back then, the worst he could do was mark those struck with soot. Now that I've shown him how to be a better pyromancer- Garret could make the earth bleed .

I'm not so sure Bethany would take after him so easily. That woman's going soft in all the wrong places.

"Where…are you?" I rasped, propping myself up against the wall with one hand as I descended the stairs. More bodies were scattered all over the place, some of them still holding fresh souls- which meant I was getting closer to Garret and the others. I followed the trail until I happened upon a chasm dividing the fortress and into a large tower carved into the earth that spanned the cliffs.

Curiously enough, I found darkspawn remains among the dead. What could they be doing this far south?

"Ha! You're in trouble now!" I heard Isabela's voice echo from the other side of the chasm. Hawke's party had already crossed the bridge connecting the two structures and were now heading into the tower's interior.

My pace quickens, although I looked slightly inhuman hunched over that way. It was easy to mistake me for a shambler, or one of the profaned darkspawn, but I hoped that the party would recognize me when I showed myself.

The quest was not done, I had to see it through.

The noise of battle reach my undead ears. I knew I was getting close.

Soon enough, I reached the party just as they were resting from a recently concluded fight. Bethany tended to Garret and Varric's wounds while Isabela looted the corpses around them, all oblivious to my presence as I shuffled ever so slowly across the threshold.

Just then, I noticed a genlock scurry through the opposite side of the room, followed by a company of hurlocks with their alpha flanking them. I growl out a warning, still having difficulty speaking with a rotten throat, even more so with that hole in my hear my rasps, but turn to the darkspawn, which was a good thing. I didn't want to happen on the party and have to watch them end without seeing this quest through.

"Look out! More darkspawn!" Bethany cried.

Garret rose up, brandishing his spear. "Oh good! I was expecting more-

All eyes turned to me as I staggered into the fray, geisteel sword dragged at my heels. I howled a faint battlecry as befits a Hollowed knight, thrusting a limp hand forward to throw a ball of flame at the approaching horde.

"L-Langerd?" I heard Bethany gasp.

"Maker's balls!" Isabela jumped at the sight of my shambling form. The whole party was stunned to see me up and about, having watched me die to the dwarves a while back.

"Kill...Kill them all!" I groaned, grunting as a genlock leaped onto me, sinking its long claws and fangs through my armor and into my shoulder. The obsidian blade comes up, burying itself into the darkspawn's belly. A twist of my wrist sends its innards spilling out into the cobblestone floor, killing the monster where it stood. "More souls...for the furnace!"

"What...who?" Garret stammered.

"He looks pretty friendly to me." Varric declared, "Target the darkspawn, we'll discuss this later."

"Sounds...good." I replied, cursed body nourished by the distasteful souls of the darkspawn slain before me.

The skirmish was all too brief, but sustained me with what I required. My limbs gradually healed, life restoring strength to my weary bones, revitalizing the once-dead flesh to hold up the cumbersome armor. No doubt I still looked like a fucking ghoul underneath all that, but at least I'm not as flimsy as a skeleton.

"Langerd?" Bethany was the first to approach me, "H-How are you alive?"

"I'm not." I bowed my head till my chin reached my chest, admitting the truth after so long. "I...I am an undead."

"What?!" Garret pointed his spear threateningly at me, "Bethany get back! Whatever demon's inside his corpse, that's not Langerd anymore! Waste it!"

"Hold, Garret." I raised my hand in a non-threatening gesture. "I am no demon."

"Be quiet, vile one!" A spirit ball forms in the mage's hand, Bethany reluctantly backs away from me as her brother prepares to strike me down.

"If I am a demon, I would defend myself from that." I pointed at the spirit ball, "If that's what it takes to convince you otherwise, I'll gladly take it."

"Wait! Garret, no!" Bethany tries to keep the spell from being cast, but was a little late for it. The spirit ball slams into me and tears a hole through my side, spewing forth bright red arterial blood fresh from a revitalized heart. A look of confusion crosses the mage's face as he watches me recoil from the attack, but no demon wrenched itself free from my body. Garret's face was aghast, "What the hell?"

I groaned, clutching my side in agony. My eyes flitted to Bethany's sash, hope springing forth when I laid them upon the estus flask hanging by her belt. "Bethany...the flask...please."

She does not hesitate when handing it over. I drank deeply from the rich fluids stored within, strength returning to my Hollowed body as the liquid fire drives away the corruption. As always, the darksign remains, but at least I no longer look as monstrous. "Thank you." I gasped, rising to get my feet under me.

Silence reigned over the party as they regarded me with a mixture of confusion, wariness and fear. Varric had no idea what to do, and Isabela was just as clueless. Bethany and Hawke had more experience with things of a spiritual nature, but even they were unprepared for this revelation.

"I owe you all an explanation." I broke the silence first, "Before you decide to strike me down once more, Hawke, will you listen to my words?"

He hesitates for a full minute, then lowers his staff. "Alright, what have you to say for yourself?"

* * *

I told them everything, as far as I could remember, anyway. My arrival on the shores of Thedas, my journeys throughout Fereldan in my year serving the Aedan, and the purpose set to me by Andraste. I did not recall my life back in Drangleic, those memories were now among the ones lost in the farthest recesses of my mind. The tale was long, but I fulfilled my end of the bargain.

Now, I wait to see the party's reaction. "Do you find it…to your satisfaction?"

They exchange looks, still staring in disbelief at my words. Varric was the first to answer, "Well, I think it all makes sense. I'm not a man of the faith, so I'll just ignore that part about Andraste and the Maker." Garret archs a brow at the dwarf's conclusion, to which he answers with a casual shrug. "What? The story's just so…believable."

I've got to hand it to the merchant prince, his imaginative mind holds little skepticism.

Isabela kept her distance from the little council, choosing to avoid an argument as much as possible. "He's not attacking us, I think that's good enough for me."

"I'm for that." Varric seconded.

"But everything you've told us before…" Bethany began, "It was all a lie?"

I shook my head, "I did not lie to you, I just witheld certain bits of information. Surely you understand, I tend to keep some secrets same as everyone else. I'm sorry if you feel deceived, but be assured that those I spoke of were all truths. I am a knight of Heide, a kingdom sunken into the depths of the sea. I am an undead who has fallen through the veil separating worlds, and I say again- I mean you no harm."

"And what of Riven?" Bethany asked, "Does she know of your affliction?"

"How could she?" I shrugged, "Her young mind cannot fathom what I am, and so I did not broach the subject."

"And so you're telling us all this because you assume we will?"

I nodded, "I do."

The party makes its decision. Much to my relief, I was welcomed back. But even with that said and done, there was much left in question. The wariness in Garret's eye never left him, and he kept his sister close and away from me. I remained alienated, but I didn't mind. They were not the first to shun me for what I am.

"Are there others like you?" Varric inquiries. "That is, if you don't mind me asking."

"Gods, I hope not." I replied. "If any undead from my world falls upon Thedas, you can be sure that the Dark One has claimed them as his pawns. But to answer your question straight; I don't know, Varric."

"Your condition..." Isabela asked, "It's not contagious, is it?"

I shook my head, "Not to my knowledge, no. The land itself has to be cursed for its people to be cursed. So that means, Thedas is safe from undeath. However, I believe you're already cursed with your own form of corruption."

"What are you talking about?"

"The darkspawn. Ring any bells?" I replied.

"Hearing your quest, that sounds like an honorable path you're taking." Varric remarked.

"How so?" I asked, "The part where I have to protect and raise a child that is not my own? Or the fact that the Maker himself makes pawns of his ill-claimed creation? No, dwarf, it is not an honorable path- but a cumbersome responsibility."

"Whichever the case, I believe the Maker's chosen well." Bethany replied. "When we get back to Kirkwall, I'll gladly watch over Riven when you're not around. No more payments are necessary."

"Thank you...for understanding." I said.

"Funny though, you never struck me as a father-figure." Isabela commented. "Is this the first time you've had a family?"

"I...had a wife, and a son...once." I said quietly.

"Oh. I see." Isabela said uncomfortably, staying silent throughout our journey down the tower.

"Do you miss them?" Bethany asks.

I shrugged, "I do not remember them...My memories fade each day. It is one of the many detrimental effects of the curse. So no...I don't miss them." That is not exactly true, but why brood over it? My family's dead, that much I know.

"Anyway, I hope you treat that girl well." Isabela declared, "There's enough bad fathers in this world, we don't need you to add to their number."

"True." I grunted, "So far, I think I'm holding up my end pretty well."

"They key! The dwarves!" A shaky voice called from beyond the bridge we stood, startling the whole party as its owner staggers out of his hiding place. "Did they find it? I heard them...looking...digging! How do you bring the key here?"

I scrutinized the man's appearance, surprised he resembled a Hollowed closely. His skin was marred by time and darkness, eyes white as the moon at night, and his teeth and nails were dirty from unclean living. What's more, he bore an older variant of Grey Warden armor.

"Maker's breath, he looks just like you, Langerd!" Varric whispered.

"I do not take that as a compliment." I growled, addressing the strange abomination. "Who are you?"

"Better question...who are you?" The man echoed, "You are the trespassers here!"

"Doesn't look like he's going to be much help to us, Hawke." I grumbled.

"H-Hawke?" The man's ears perked up at the sound of the name, "You are of the blood of the Hawke? Yes...I smell the magic on you. But you hold the key! The key to his death! Yes...I can show you out...yes." He waddles away, leaving the five of us scratching our heads in confusion.

"What now?" I asked.

"Now, we follow." Garret says with a shrug.

 **}!{**


	26. Malcolm's Will Part Two

**Heh, almost thought this fic was dying out. I was wrong. I'm grateful for the attention.**

 **}!{**

I knew what we were walking into when the seals were unbound. Experience with forbidden places has taught me much, through wound and hollowing, that whatever lay within would never make things easy for us. I was right in assuming as much.

Hawke ignored my warnings and opened the first of Corypheus' Seals, seeing that there was no other choice bit to heed the words of the ghoulish man we met earlier. The following series of events were quite scarring, to say the least. A demon, unlike anything I've faced in my very long lifetime, burst free from its confines and set the entire room aflame. It came after me, a small comfort for the party as they moved out of the way.

The demon wraps its longs fingers around my waist and begins to squeeze. I gasp, robbed of air and ribs straining against the increased compression around my middle. The obsidian blade comes down and cuts deep into the beast's flesh, an act repeated as I prompted the demon to release me unless it was fine with losing its limbs so soon into its awakening.

It is in these moments faint memories resurface, shards only of a lost past that I cannot recall at will. As the demon crushes me in its deadly grip, I saw visions of the battles of long ago, where I fought against Giants from across the sea. There were similarities between their battle-tacts, and so it was fairly easy for me to come with a solution regarding escape. The demon's grip slackens, and I wriggle free, blasting its face with a bolt of lighting for good measure.

It roars in agony, staggering back as the lightning burns off half its face, scattering charred flesh all over the floor and leaving a hideous scar in its place! Hawke summons six spirit shackles that pinned the demon in place, allowing Varric to send hail after hail of crossbow bolts from Bianca. The merchant prince hums a peculiar tune as he reloads, then breaks into a song that only he knew.

Soon, the demon falls, soul shattering into a thousand splinters as the darksign wrenches it free from its vessel. My wounds close as the soul joins the thousands within me, returning strength to my weary limbs.

"Job done." I remarked, cleansing my blades free from demon blood and sheathing them. "Time to move on."

"Wait." Hawke said, approaching the Seal from which he released the Guardian. "Something tells me there's more to this thing than it seems. Hold on a minute." He thrusts the Hawke's Key, a relic he picked up from the dwarven warlord Rhatigan from back when, and connects the staff into the center of the Seal. Magic courses from the veins of the enchanted floor, filling the Key with power and infusing it with the element of flame. The sight was most satisfying to watch, and I even I had to crack a smile at that.

The ghoul waddles in at the conclusion of our battle. Hawke, as frustrated as I with riddles, demands the stranger to identify himself. "All this business concerning my blood is getting a little creepy. Will you at least tell me your name?"

The creature tilts his head at an odd angle and mutters, "Name? So long since I've said my name." He wanders off into the corner of the room, staring at the faded symbol of the Grey Wardens, who no doubt have built this prison with the dwarven guardians of the past. "I was…Larius!" He grinned, showing a set of yellow, rotting teeth that repulsed Isabela visibly. "Larius! And there was a…title too. Commander…Commander of the Grey!"

I frowned at this, remembering a past conversation I've had with Aedan concerning the taint of the darkspawn. Drinking their blood was a necessary ritual amongst the Wardens, but it brought with it a heavy price. Not unlike the Hollowing curse brought about by the darksign, Wardens are doomed to suffer a terrible end. Larius stands as an example of such a curse. It saddens me to think that this fate awaited my friend Aedan, for such a good man deserved far better than an ignoble end.

"I am dead…but I never died."

"That sounds familiar." Varric comments, glancing at me sideways.

"How can you, a Warden, end up like this?" Hawke sounded shocked, "I thought you were immune to the taint!"

"The Calling…it comes for us all…none can resist it." Larius answered, "Our death…" The ghoul, having enough of the exchange, wanders off into the darkness. We follow him across the bridge, a fallen pillar that stretched across a wide chasm separating one tower from another. On the opposite end stood a genlock, larger than most of its kin, and carried a monstrous spiked greatshield. Upon laying eyes on us, the genlock roars, slamming its shield twice upon the dusty earth before heading out to battle.

"That's a very nice looking shield." I grinned beneath my helm.

"Nice? Excuse me?" Varric said incredulously.

The genlock charges like a bronto, shield laid forth to push aside anything in its path. I met the alpha's charge with my own, proving to the darkspawn that undead have strength that rivals their own. The genlock stops in its tracks and swings the shield about, attempting to knock me off my feet. It fails to do so, and I exploit its opening, driving my blades into its stubby legs and separating it from its waist. The genlock squeals like a stuck pig, dropping its shield and falling slack upon the bridge. I give no more than a second for it to face its demise, then severed its head free from its shoulders.

I laughed out loud, picking up that piece of armor and lifting it high up my shoulder effortlessly. "Fortune smiles on me for once. This'll prove handy against the hordes ahead."

"How the hell do you even carry that thing?" Varric stares in disbelief. "It looks like it weighs twice your own!"

"I've carried bigger things." I answered, "Come. There's more ground to cover. If the Seals are our only way out of this prison, I'd have them broken as soon as possible."

* * *

We step into another floor, different than the others as it seemed to be pulsating with magical wards. This place is a prison, after all, but this one was like a prison within a prison. Isabela herself gave voice to what seemed to be a general thought. "I don't like the looks of this place. We should keep moving." Hawke, however, was a curious one. He inspected each cell until he chanced upon a heavily warded room that housed a sloth demon. I knew this to be so, for I had battled the likes of it before.

A ghostly voice declares upon Hawke's approach, _**"Be bound here for eternity. Hunger stilled. Rage smothered. Desire dampened. Pride Crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be!"**_

"Hawke. Bad idea." I cautioned as he proceeds to touch the seal.

He does it anyway, unleashing a group of six sloth demons the moment the seal breaks!

"Fucking idiot!" I snarled, drawing my blades and striking the demon across the throat, pushing Garret aside as the next one lunges forward and buries its long claws into me! Demons can sometimes manipulate reality, and in this case the claws passed through armor and flesh, wounding me at the soul. In great pain, but still in control, I retaliate by bellowing a gust of flame in the demon's face. The spirit retreats, attempting to jump back into the Fade as I wound it with the Dark One's gift. Bethany was quick to keep it from doing so, using a basic but effective bolt of lightning to kill the demon where it stood.

As quickly as it begins, the battle ends with the last demon's demise. With that, the ghostly voice returns. _**"I can do nothing about the Wardens' use of demons in this horrid place. But I will have no one say that any magic of mine ever released one into this world!"**_

Garret and Bethany seemed to recognize the voice. "That…sounded like father! But how?"

I, however, was very angry at the younger man's carelessness. For all their sakes, I reined in my temper and addressed the issue calmly. "Hawke…the next time you do something like that, warn me."

"He kind of has a point there, Hawke." Varric says casually, hoping to avoid another heated argument.

"I'm sorry, Langerd." Garret apologized, "But that voice sounded familiar, I had to know where it leads. Again, I'm sorry. There may be more of those prisons, and I plan on going through each step until I find what I'm looking for."

I calmed down at his words of humility, "Alright. But no more reckless actions from here on out, my friend. I hope we're clear on that."

He nodded, "We are."

"Good." I said, "Now, what is it you find so familiar about that voice?"

"It's just a feeling." He answered, "Father's involvement has been confirmed since the Carta faced us. It's not just a coincidence that he's involved with the Wardens who built this place as well as the demons imprisoned here."

"Ah, the plot thickens." I muttered, "I see you wish to get to the bottom of it. Come on then, let's get this over with." I'll back Hawke as promised, but the man's impulsive nature often drives me to question the wisdom behind my support of this endeavors.

The second prison was not too far away. This time, housing three abominations. The cursed union of demon and human flesh stood static within its cell, the powerful magic of the wards preventing it from awakening and unleashing its horrors upon the material verse. This time, Hawke makes sure the whole party was ready for what he was about to do, only then did he proceed to unlock the cell to hear his father's last testimonies. _**"Be bound here for eternity. Hunger stilled. Rage smothered. Desire dampened. Pride Crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be!"**_

The seals break at his touch, and the abominations sprung to life as struck by lightning! Unlike the shades, these unholy amalgamations moved with blinding speed, casting bolts of fire as well as spitting boiling blood from the frothing gashes that used to be their victims' mouths! I purified the room with eager fervor, absolutely offended by the abominations' existence. They fell quickly to both our blades and magic, a decade's worth of imprisonment denying them any advantage over our well-coordinated attacks.

Malcolm Hawke, as was his name, spoke the next words. _**"I may have left the Circle, but I took a vow. My magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base."**_

"Father used to say that to me as well!" Bethany exclaims, echoing her mentor's words. "That which is best in me, not that which is most base."

"They are words of wisdom, admirable even." I declared, "From what I hear, it sounds like he didn't want to be here."

"It's possible the Wardens recruited him to build the wards and seals." Varric mused, "They have a reputation for conscripting whoever they deem useful, after all."

"There must be more, come on!" Hawke said, hurrying past us and into the next corner of the floor.

The last prison was the largest and most fortified of the others. Like the first, I advised greater caution with the last. The prison held a demon of desire, such as described to me by Leliana when she told me of her adventure with the Warden at the Circle of Ferelden. It was a thing of beauty, and no doubt as equally terrifying. Pink flames danced about its head like hairlocks, horns of darkest onxy curved elegantly behind its temples, and its scantily clad body sported curves that no mortal could ever hope of laying eyes on.

Unfortunately, I was an undead. My desires and lust of the flesh were dampened long ago, which proved to be an advantage is cases such as these. Isabela, however, seemed to be enjoying what she was seeing. "Now that's a sight." She whistled.

I rolled my eyes and got ready for the last prison encounter. Malcolm Hawke's ghost repeats the first sentence, declaring the prison sealed for all eternity, only to be undone by his own son. _**"Be bound here for eternity. Hunger stilled. Rage smothered. Desire dampened. Pride Crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be!"**_ The next instant, the demon of desire awakens, throwing the whole party off guard as she casts an irresistable charm spell that rendered them unable to act against her. All of them were charmed, expect me. The demon sees this and tilts her head in wonder.

"I know, it's a terrible burden." I raised my weapon and struck her down, relishing the soft noise of supernatural steel cleaving her flesh. She moans as if in ecstasy, then falls to the floor dead, releasing the party from the charm spell.

"What happened?" Varric blinked, "What did I miss?"

The ghost reappears for the third time, _**"I've bought our freedome, Liandra. We can go home now, us and the baby. We will be together again. I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one, may they never learn what I've done here."**_ After that, the voice fades, leaving the Hawke siblings to contemplate on their father's words.

"He was talking about you." Bethany tells her brother, "Mother must've been pregnant with you when they left Kirkwall. He didn't want to birth magic with a child, and then he had me."

"Father loved you, Bethany, same us me and Carver." Garret answers.

I walked out of the room, feeling suffocated by the drama. The matter no longer concerns me, I had better things to do than suffer in that exchange- like finding a way out of this floor.

 **}!{**


	27. Memento of the Past Part Four

**}!{**

"Langerd, where've you been?" Hawke demanded as I rounded the corner, surprised to see me covered in darkspawn blood.

"Searching for the next Seal while you were back there digging up old ghosts." I answered, "If you think I would waste my time for every detour you make, you are very much mistaken. Or did you forget the reason you dragged me across the whole fucking desert for?"

"Why do you have to act like an insufferable prick all the time?" Garret cried out in exasperation.

"I wouldn't be Langerd if I wasn't, boy." I said, unfazed by the remark. "Besides, someone has to keep a level head, focused on the task at hand. If it has to be the dead man, then so be it."

"Alright, simmer down you two." Bethany steps in, "Langerd, what did you find?"

"The Seal." I pointed towards the next chamber, across rooms filled with scores of darkspawn dead. I had spent the last hour hacking every single one in a desperate attempt to blow off steam. Traveling with Hawke was always eventful, but greatly taxing on my patience. Peaceful thoughts were rare for me, so I had to make do with what serenity I could find in battle. "If you're done admiring the architecture, I suggest you unlock the damned thing so we can be on our way. I believe that was your goal too, hm?"

"Shut up." Garret grumbles.

"That's the spirit."

Much like the first, the second Guardian puts up quite a fight. This one, however, used guile as much as savagery. Where one second it stood as one, the next it would fool the party by splitting itself into six other mirror selves, giving it ample opportunity to unleash powerful magical attacks from behind. Anticipating its strategy was difficult at first, but I gradually got the hang of it. The Guardian's single flaw was that it was unable to adapt, lacking the intelligence of a sentient being. I exploited this oversight and got the upper hand in the end.

The Guardian's blood soon stained my blades as I dealt the final blow, eagerly devouring its soul once the flesh was torn asunder. The party takes a moment to relax, then Garret steps forward to unlock the Seal's reward, empowering his father's staff with the second enchantment. Frost bursts free from one of the sconces, joining the element of flame within Malcolm's Key. The man admires the swirling mass of raw mana within the staff for a minute, then moves forward to speak with Larius. The ghoul had been watching the exchange from a safe distance, seemingly hesitant to approach the Seals as though it would burn him should he come too close.

"He...He is waking! The magic grows lax!" He exclaims, "He feels us walk where no step goes!"

I was tired of riddles, I needed a straight answer. "Larius, who or what is Corypheus? What do these Seals have to do with him?"

"He calls to both the children of the Dark, and the Light! He mimics the call of an Old God!" Larius babbles, "Any with taint in their blood!"

"What is he then?" I demanded, "A demon, man or darkspawn?" I didn't dare say undead, for that would mean the Dark One's influence upon Thedas would've reached the point where he could twist and malign all life as he did on Drangleic!

"More than darkspawn! More than human or demon!" Larius answers, "He thinks, he talks...he pierces the Veil!" The ghoul shudders, head snapping backwards as if he hears a voice call to him. "Corypheus calls! I cannot stay!"

"Come back here!" I growled, "I'm not done with you!"

Too late, the ghoul disappears into the shadows. The only way to prompt him to reappear would be to unlock the final Seal, and thereby freeing this Corypheus. I didn't like where the whole matter led, for we may be unleashing something worse than a mere abomination. 'One that pierces the Veil' Larius had said, which could only mean one thing. Corypheus was one of the magisters in my vision so long ago.

I gave no voice to my musings, didn't want to cause unnecessary fuss. If this was true, then my purpose was clear. Corypheus will be freed, that much is unavoidable, but he _will_ meet his end by my blade!

* * *

"Langerd, are you alright?" Bethany inquires of me, "You've been awfully quiet for the past hour."

"Leave me be." I grumbled, brushing off her concerns. We had entered the murky depths of Corypheus' prison, a poisonous cesspit filled with gaseous pools and darkspawn hordes. Yet what made it all the more sinister was that it felt very familiar to me. Drangleic had been cursed with a similar affliction. The very land convulsed and belched forth the horrid remains of its rotted bowels. Its soils had turned to lifeless gray, cracked and bleeding lesions like the skin of a leper. Pools of sulfur formed atop split fissures, reeking of death as the earth's veins breathed their last.

"What is that smell?" Bethany covered her nose, "I think I'm going to pass out!"

"Smells like home." I muttered.

"You've seen all this before?" Varric asked.

"Drangleic suffers the same fate." I answered, "Your world falls to affliction in a similar manner. Soon, it too will succumb to the curse of Undeath. Forever hurdling forth into darkness. Too bad. I was starting to like this place."

"No." Hawke declared, "That's not going to happen."

I shrugged, "True, such a fate can be stalled. But I doubt there's any power that can stop it for good."

"You speak of such things as if your quest means nothing to you." Bethany reminded me of my obligation to the Andraste. "Have you lost faith in the Maker's power?"

"You mistake me for a man of the faith, Bethany." I said frankly. "I apologize if my cynical nature bothers you. Your trust in your god is commendable, but I fear it is misplaced. The Maker cares little of anything beyond his little citadel in the Fade, I doubt he'd be there for you in your darkest hour- he certainly hasn't been there for anyone, really."

Bethany was taken aback by my callous words and was silent.

"As for my quest, I am committed to fulfilling it." I continued, "I do it not for the Maker, but for Andraste. The Prophetess, compared with her patron, has shown me kindness. That alone gives me reason to serve her, but not enough to shed all doubt from my mind."

Suddenly, a glob of poisonous spit slaps into the plating of my helmet! The acid hisses as it eats away at the bradden steel. With a growl of annoyance, I wrench the useless piece of gear free and thrust it aside, casting my baleful glare upon the perpetrator.

They were as small as lizards can be, a tad tinier than dragonlings. I read a book on the beasts of Thedas a while back in the library of Denerim, written by a scholar that travelled the depths of the Deep Roads. These were Deepstalkers, unsavoury creatures that plagued the deepest recesses of the dwarven pathways. Alone, they are shy, but will take on beasts as large as brontos when they mass together.

With a roar, the blast of flame erupts from my outstretched hands, scorching both earth and flesh until naught but ashes remained. I had been penting up my frustration for quite a bit now, and this form of release was a welcome event. The Deepstalkers soon learned that there are some creatures in Thedas that you just don't fuck around with.

Further on, we encountered more darkspawn. These hordes were led by an alpha, each for every kind. But when we struck down these leaders, morale broke down quite easily. Sometimes not all darkspawn go into battle with sturdy spines.

"At last." I breathed, catching sight of the last Seal that would herald the end of our long quest. My blade utters a loud crunch as it tears bone and armor, killing the hurloc alpha with a blow to the neck. "There lies our objective."

"Get ready, if this is the last it will probably be harder to kill than the last two." Hawke warned, approaching the Seal with a cautious hand that would have been nice if he had shown such character earlier.

The Seal breaks, unleashing the giant within.

It utters an ear-splitting scream that stunned the whole party for a moment, then takes to the sky, bringing down its massive arms for a powerful earthwards pound that shattered the marble floor. Isabela dove to the side as its foot crushes the stones where she once stood, rolling back to nick at the Guardian's ankles to drive it into a blind rage.

Bianca chatters thrice, planting bolt after bolt into the monster's scaly hide. Varric hums nonchalantly, reloads, then fires again.

Bethany supports the party from afar, casting healing spells where grievous wounds would appear and enchanting our attacks to improve the odds of a quick victory.

I made good use of the genlock's shield, soaking up much of the demon's fire as it bellows breath after breath of hellflame. Empowered by the enchantments of his father's Seals, Hawke fires both flame and ice-shard wherever he sees an opening, keeping out of harm's way as he crouched behind me. The demon huddles down atop the shattered Seal and covers itself in a protective shell, seemingly awaiting its end as its options frayed away.

"Burn!" I growled, unleashing a torrent of the most potent of flames in my pyromancy spells, melting even that of the cold arcane structures that held the circle together! The demon utters one final cry of submission, then perishes in a ball of charred flesh. Its soul was dragged screaming out of its ruined vessel and joins the others within me. I let out a breath and laughed at the conclusion of the battle, "Ha! A good fight!"

"That has got to be the only time I've seen you smile all day." Varric remarked.

With an existence as bleak as mine, is there any reason for me to smile at all? "Enjoy it while it lasts, dwarf." I addressed the merchant prince's words.

Hawke absorbs the final enchantments of the last Seal, and we all awaited the arrival of Larius. The ghoul returns, both pleased and alarmed at the unlocking of the Seal. "The magic...weakens! I can feel him awakening! You must be prepared to deliver the killing blow...when the time comes!" Suddenly, he stops, turning his gaze back as some disturbance frightens him. "What is that? Oh no...no! They are here!"

"Speak plainly!" I snarled, absolutely not in the mood for riddles. "Who is here?"

"The Wardens!" His answer surprises the hell out of me, "They listen to Corypheus! They want to bring him the Light! Stop them! You must stop them!" And just like that, the ghoul staggers away into the darkness, leaving us to deal with the threat ourselves.

A small group of Grey Wardens approach from behind the Prison Tower, immersed in conversation as they felt the magic of the Seals break and Corypheus stir in his sleep. I have to admit, I too felt something, more akin to the faint brush of the wind than anything else.

Their leader, a woman with hair as brown as autumn's morning, stopped in mid-sentence and spoke to Garret. "You! You came through the Seals, and you have the Key? But how?" She squinted at Hawke, studying his features intently. "Garret Hawke? It must be him, the Carta said they were close. I am Janicka, I lead this team of Wardens."

I didn't like the sound of that. How was she involved with the Carta? If she was in any way behind those attacks, she had endangered my little girl, and so she must die. With these thoughts, I found my hand wandering down to the obsidian blade, ready to strike at the Warden regardless of the Order she represented. "How do you know of the Carta?"

"Hush, Langerd." Garret steps forward, "What interest does your Order have with my father?"

"Then you don't know?" Janicka archs her brow, "Without Malcolm Hawke, this prison would've already fallen. The Grey Wardens used him to build this place to contain one of the most powerful darkspawn the world has ever known. But even the best magic fades. The Seals must be reinforced, by one whose blood remains untainted by darkspawn. The last who performed the ritual was your father."

"My father was a blood mage?" Garret cried out incredulously.

"In the war against the Blight, forbidden magic is sometimes necessary." Janicka said, "He didn't bind the demon, if that is your concern. But here, we need your help, Hawke. I have done extensive research, and realized that the former Wardens were wrong. Corypheus is not a threat to humanity, he is our greatest opportunity! Think about it, a darkspawn that can think and talk- one that we can reason with!"

I was about to give voice to my protest at this proposition when Larius took the words right out of my mouth, "Corypheus cares nothing for the Blights! He used you, as he is using you now!"

"A Warden Commander!" One of the Wardens exclaimed at the sight of the ghoul in his rent and torn Grey armor.

"Don't listen to this...creature!" Janicka draws her hands into fists, "He's half darkspawn himself!"

"Hawke, I beg of you, do not trust this woman!" Larius implored, "Corypheus has twisted her mind through the taint, she is the reason the Carta attacked you!"

That was enough to make my decision for me, and I agreed with the ghoul's words. "Hawke." I said quietly, "That should be enough to answer your questions. Don't even consider Janicka's proposition, trust me on this."

"Don't worry, I've no intention of letting anyone use my blood for anything." Hawke answers.

"Good." I smirked, thrusting my hand out and casting a bolt of lightning that caught the Wardens off-guard, granting them a violent death as the current lance through every fiber in their bodies and overloads every system. Steam wafts free from burnt hairs, and muscles jerk as the bodies convulsed and moved their last.

"What the hell, Langerd?!"

I looked at the party in genuine confusion, "What? I thought you were with me on that."

Garret sputters and shakes his head, "Oh Maker..."

I shrugged, "Um...sorry, I guess. But hey, it just makes things quicker."

The earth shakes as a great power stirs from within the prison. Larius seemed as agitated as ever. I spoke to the ghoul, eager to finish this charade once and for all. "Grant us a quick passage up to Corypheus, wherever he may be."

Larius nodded once and waddles off, up the stairs and into the first floor of the second tower. "This way." We follow him up, pace quickening as the tremors grow stronger.

 **}!{**


	28. Back Home

**}!{**

Never before have I thought the walls of Kirkwall as a welcome sight. After spending eight long days in the Vimmark desert, crossing its scorching sands and battling the ancient evil imprisoned within its dunes, to say that I was eager to return home would be a monumental understatement.

Isabela returned to her room in the Hanged Man tavern with Varric, who resumed control of his businesses as merchant prince of House Tethras. Bethany and Garret, still shaken by what they've learned about their father in that prison, remained completely silent about the matter as they accompanied me home.

Leandra Hawke had taken good care of Riven while we were away, another debt to the family's kindness that I could not repay enough. The elder woman imparted much of her knowledge to the child, having been provided the best education in her youth by her well-off parents. When we arrived at Gamlen's shack, I found her teaching Riven basic mathematics and primary reading. The fancy schoolhouses were too expensive, and the middle-class ones too snobbish to accomodate my child's needs, so Leandra made do with some books she bought off the market- much to Gamlen's dismay. I knew the old man's type, a gambler and a thief- the worst kind you'd have in a family.

Nevertheless, I tolerated Garret's uncle simply because he owned the house Riven was staying in. That bit is about to change, however, for I've found a place where she can be both safe and comfortable.

"Papa, you're back!" She greeted, closing the book she and Leandra were studying and running straight into my outstretched arms. With one scoop, I lift her up high to my shoulders where her little arms wrap around my neck. "Did you stop the bad people from hurting us?"

I nodded, kissing the little girl's plump cheeks affectionately. "Yes. They won't be a problem any longer."

Garret meets my gaze with a similar look in his eye. The truth was a secret best kept within a small circle, not including Riven in any way. "So, what's next for you, Langerd?"

"Now, I'm going to find a better roof over our heads." I answered, gathering what little belongings remained of our original home- now in ashes from the Carta attack- and headed out the door.

"Typical snob." Gamlen muttered, "Not even a little compensation for our hospitality?"

I glared at the miser for a moment, then fished around my pockets for a silver piece. That was the last of my treasury, aside from the meager spoils of battle I collected from the trip through the Vimmark desert with Hawke. I knew better than to hand the piece over to Gamlen, knowing where that money will end up. I handed the silver coin over to Leandra instead, trusting the woman over her brother. "Thank you for everything you've done for us."

"But...you don't have to leave so soon." Leandra began, "You can stay for a few more days-

I stop her with a wave of my hand, "I'm not overstaying my welcome. You've done enough, it's time for us to find our own way in this city. Don't worry, I've got a few ideas how it will all work out."

"Take care, Langerd." Bethany bids me farewell, caressing Riven's face tenderly as she did so. "Maker be with you."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head at that last part, but said nothing as I made a hasty departure from Lowtown, heading for the cliffs overlooking the Gallows isle beyond the city. There, upon the white-flecked rocks, sits an old castle of blackest stone. Weathered and battered by the elements from untold centuries of misuse, the once magnificent monument to a bygone era stood gathering moss and dusty cobwebs. Anyone else would've turned a blind eye to the structure, but not I.

What stands as rubble can be rebuilt. Nothing destroyed remains so for long, that much I know from experience.

"Papa?" Riven looks up at me quizzically. "Is this the place?"

I look down at her and nod, "Yes, Riven. This is our new home."

"B-But...it looks awful!"

"True." I nod again, setting the knapsack against the oak tree growing atop an unmarked grave. After clearing the leaves from beneath its mighty branches, I pitched our tent so Riven can stay within the shade as I begin the first stage in restoring the castle. "But watch Papa work, little one. See what once was ugly be remade into something beautiful."

I discard my armor and chainmail, donning only my leatherbound pants and shirt, then gathered all the mana my soul could muster. Once all the forces were in me, and making sure no prying eyes were in the vicinity, I commanded the stones to move.

At first, nothing happened. But with a little more coaxing I managed to force the stubborn blocks to rise back into their respected places. Broken walls were restored within minutes, melding unto one another to form the hardest stone Thedas has ever seen. I had transmuted metals and earths in my life before, this instance required less effort than those tasks.

Next came the battlements, which gave the keep its form. This took a greater deal of will than the first, for I had to start from scratch from there. Stone and metal fused together as the towers rose from the cliffs, all moving as my hands commanded the mana to shape the earth according to my thoughts. It comes to form within hours, and leaves me sweating profusely from the effort.

And last, which required a greater attention to detail and even more effort than the other two, the Keep itself.

My chest heaves as I take a moment to rest from my exertions. The wizards of Heide could do this without so much as breaking a sweat, forging the great kingdom from the ground up within days. All of Kirkwall seemed to have the same archaic beauty to it, which drove me to question whether or not mages built the city instead of the manual labor of their slaves.

"Papa, do you need help?" Riven approaches me with a glass of water, a gift I recieved gratefully. "I can give you strength if you're feeling tired."

I arch my brow at this, "You can do that?"

Riven bobs her head and opens her hands, touching my face as she breathes life int my tired limbs. Bright green light seeps into my soul, restoring my strength as she claimed, earning Riven my admiration for her quick mastery of the basic arcane arts. "Thank you. Now, stand back. One more good pull, and our home will be built."

Prior to our departure from Kirkwall, the day we ventured out into the desert to hunt down the Carta, I requested a favor from Loki- a favor that weighs quite heavily indeed. His liege had gained significant influence amongst the nobility, able to wiggle his way through to get what he wants. Loki had the man in his pocket, I only had to ask for the property of this old castle to be signed in my name and within a few days it was mine. I had to find a way to pay him back for that one.

The Keep was finished, and I took a moment to examine my work.

It was a marvelous sight, but like all things born of mortal hands I knew such monuments will crumble in time. Nevertheless, it will suffice. Riven seemed happy and clapped her hands at the culmination of my efforts, "You did it! You did it, Papa!"

My shoulders were hunched, sweat poured in rivers all over my face, but my heart was jubilant. Riven's adoration was enough to lift my spirits any day, and this time was no different. "Shall we see what lies within, my princess?" I extend my hand, which she takes up eagerly. Together, we enter our new home and settled in.

* * *

"Papa?"

"Yes Riven?" I said, pouring the soup out of the pot and into the child's bowl.

"Will you tell me what you did there, when you left to protect me and the Hawke family?"

The flames in the hearth glow brightly, casting their orange light upon my face and revealing the quizzical look I sported. "It's a long story, I'm afraid it may take the whole night."

"Come on, please?" Her green eyes stared up at mine expectantly.

I purse my lips, then nodded. "Finish your supper first, then I'll tell you."

Riven does as she was told, eagerly awaiting my story. It goes without saying that I'd leave a lot of details out, for the child's sake. Some things in this world are best kept secret, I suppose. I told her of our long journey into the desert, how we nearly perished from thirst. The facts about the fight between us and the Carta, I kept brief. Then, I left out the truth of what went on in that prison.

The story was indeed long, and Riven soon fell asleep on the table.

I gently lifted the slumbering child off her seat and carried her to the one room in the whole castle which contained a bed. I had yet to fill this place with proper furniture, but that will be a task I will see to another day.

The door creaks open, I nudge it out of the way and laid Riven on the bed. After drawing the covers over her tiny frame, I pause to examine the child under my care. We're halfway through the year, she grows fast, even more so than her age should allow. I brush the locks out of her face and found myself lost at the sight of true serenity.

My outlook concerning the child had changed, that was obvious. Where once I resented the duty bestowed upon me by Andraste, I found myself eager to carry it out. I no longer saw her as a simple charge. My heart, which had grown hard as stone from so much suffering, opened up to her. I am determined now more than ever to keep her safe. If there was anything I can thank the Prophetess for, it is bringing my soul its much needed respite.

Perhaps this is what she meant by curing me of my curse.

I left the sleeping child alone and emerged into the study, where a stack of papers sat untouched since I unpacked. Under the dim candlelight, I reviewed the Deed and its corresponding documents. This piece of land was mine now, the realization of it made me smile. I can start again in this place, raise Riven right and give her the kind of life she deserved.

The things I will have to do aren't worth mentioning to the child. She doesn't have to know everything that goes on around her.

An example of such would be what we found in the Vimmark prison. I neglected to tell Riven about Corypheus, what he represented and my fears of what might be.

I did not tell her of the battle that nearly claimed Garret's own life, Corypheus' vow to return from the Abyss, the confrontation that earned me the horrific scar that marks my chest. Most will heave a sigh of relief at the conclusion of such an event, but not me. Where the Hawkes forgot, I kept these concerns with me. Corypheus was a servant of the Dark One, and is not the only one for that matter. But I won't worry about it too much, for I choose to focus all my thoughts on Riven's welfare.

One day, when she comes of age and in the final battle to decide the fates of all worlds beyond, Riven will save us all- that much I'm certain of.

As my eyes flitted from page to page, I recalled each and every moment spent in that tower. My hand reaches past the folds of my shirt and touches the scar on my chest. There, Corypheus had dealt me a serious wound, a blow that was meant for Garret. It felt as if the souls within me burned like oil struck by flames, and to say that it was excruciating would be an understatement.

From there I earned the undying gratitude of the mage, although I didn't care much for what he felt. I had an obligation to keep him alive, nothing more. But still, his debt to me would prove useful in the future.

It was almost midnight when I decided to turn in for the night, closing up the study so I may join Riven upstairs. But as I moved to put together the stacks of papers, I heard the sound footsteps gently padding across the halls outside my study. I wasn't expecting visitors, so I picked up my geisteel sword before cautiously entering the corridor leading upstairs.

I followed the footfalls, careful not to make a sound as I rounded the corner.

Much to my surprise, no one was there! I started to feel embarrassed for getting too jumpy when the footsteps sounded again, this time coming from Riven's room!

With an angry grunt, I ran up the steps and pushed the door open, sword raised to strike the intruder. What I saw next forced my jaws to part in astonishment. For there, standing close to Riven's bedside, was none other than Leliana!

The rogue was dressed in black leather, bearing the insignia of the Chantry, and had a hooded coat to cover the twin daggers fastened to her belt. She was petting Mr. Fuzzypants while calmly watching my charge's peaceful slumber. The cat mewls his welcome, then leaps off her hands, walking up to brush himself against my legs. Leliana's green eyes follow the cat until the fall on me, the sight of which puts the kindest of smiles upon her face.

"Hello Langerd." She greeted me.

She was no enemy of mine, so I lowered my blade, bringing up my finger to my lips as I whispered. "Shhh..." I then beckon her outside, "Come, we'll have this talk in my study."

* * *

I found the wine in the old cellar, tasted it, then judged it good enough. With it, I poured myself and my guest a drink.

"It's been a long time." She remarks, taking the glass out of my hands before taking a sip. "About eight months, I think, since I've seen you last at the battle of Denerim."

I grunted, "Of all the people who could drop by, you're the last I expected. What are you doing here in Kirkwall, Leliana?"

"I can ask the same about you." She avoids the question.

"Yes, and I'd appreciate it if you do me the courtesy of answering first." I pressed. "Is it by coincidence that you happened to pass by this city, so far away from Ferelden or Orlais, or did you go through all this trouble just to see me?"

Leliana swirls the thick brown liquid in her glass before relenting, "It's a little of both, actually. Our little group parted ways shortly after the victory over the Blight. Aedan looked after the Wardens, Alistair stayed on to rule Ferelden as King with Anora, and I journeyed all over the province looking for you. After a month of fruitless search, I gave up and went home to Orlais."

"I'm flattered, but why?"

She sighs, "You already know the answer to that."

"Why so embarrassed to say it out loud now?" I said, "I remember you being so bold when we walked alongside Aedan and the others."

"Things changed."

"Ah." I nodded, "I see. So, we come back to my question. What are you doing here, Leliana? I mean, really."

She stares into the flames of the fireplace, unseeing as the colors danced upon her green irises. "I want to know if there was anything between us, Langerd." Her hand reaches for the small necklace hanging around her neck, "I felt it the day you saved me from that dragon, and I still feel it now. I want to know if you feel the same."

"Oh Leliana..." I sighed, weary of this old issue.

She pauses as if to swallow the lump growing in her throat, "So, do you? Do you feel for me the way I do for you?"

I don't know why, but I felt angry about this, and it showed in my knuckles growing taut as my fingers clenched around the glass in my hand. 'I think you should leave', was what I wanted to say or 'Get out'. Instead, I prolonged the ordeal. I could tell her the truth, or just tell her what she wants to hear.

It was my turn to stare into the flames, "The truth is, Leliana, I don't know what I feel about you. There's the mutual respect, the admiration for such a talented warrior, but anything beyond that is...hollow." I set the glass down on the table and sighed, "You've seen the child upstairs. What 'love' I have left in me, I reserve only for her."

I look into those green orbs, almost wishing I could drown in them. "Why...why do you look for that in me? I am a ruin of a man, cursed with undeath and a decaying soul...I am not...I cannot make you happy. I don't know how!"

There was a long pause shared between us, then Leliana reaches out and takes hold of my hands in hers. "Please, Langerd...let me in."

I wanted to withdraw, to run from this...whatever the hell this is, but found that I could not. I was powerless to stop her from touching the one thing only Riven was able to- my poor cursed heart.

Why did I need to run? Was it necessary for me to deny myself this bit of happiness? Good things come rare in life, and twice so with how long they last. What would I gain from being afraid of losing what I open up to? Sometimes it doesn't have to make sense, just a leap of faith every now and then- it won't kill me.

And if it does kills me, I'll just come back.

Her hand caresses my face, and I allow it. "I have forgotten how to love, Leliana. If you are willing...teach me. Teach me how to love you."

She smiles the sweetest of smiles, "Well. The first lesson is the easiest." I arch my brow as she draws near, her face just inches away from mine. "When words fail, you'll have to show it."

"How?"

"Like this." Her lips were warm as her hands, which wander up my arms to snake over my chest and around my neck as she draws ever closer. Her mouth tastes sweet from the mix of fruit and wine, bold tongue slithering free from that cavern to lash at my teeth.

She took the lead for a few minutes before I decide to retake control of the situation. My hands reach up to grasp her shoulders firmly, then I pull her away. Leliana looks up at me strangely, but relaxes as she finds my gaze reassuring. "Not here." There was a room opposite the same hall where Riven stayed. There was no bed, but a set of mattresses that will suffice as one. If Leliana and decide on doing the deed this night, that was the best place to do it- unless she prefers to do it on my desk, which would be very inappropriate.

I kept my insecurities beneath a veneer of calm throughout the night I spent with Leliana. The memories we shared in that room were nothing short of obscene, but nevertheless intoxicating.

She was eager, I was patient. The curse inhibits my desires of the flesh, and alas, it kept me from enjoying the full benefits of such carnal pleasures. My mind switches off as soon as the cold evening air caresses our naked bodies, brief scenes of the act barely registering as they were done. What moments I truly enjoyed, few as they were, I clung to in desperation.

They were the moments where our flesh became one; her luscious, curvacious form moving atop of me; her breathless moans as we consummated the mutual passion shared between us.

She finishes, I never did. Too bad.

Her body falls lax over my own, she sighs heavily as sweat glistens over her soft skin. Leliana lays her head on my chest and whispers, "I love you, Langerd."

I turn my head slowly and hold her close. If she's happy, I'm happy. No need to bemoan my shortcomings. "I love you too...Leliana."

 **}!{**


	29. Darktown's Underbelly Part One

**}!{**

The sunlight touches my skin, driving away the chill of last night's winds with its warm caress. All throughout the hours, I lay there awake, sleep denying me the respite I so craved.

The body within my arms stirs, each breath born from a contented sigh. Leliana must have felt the touch of the morning sun through the open window too, for she lifts her head to gaze up at me with expectant eyes. The look in them was uncertainty, she may have assumed I would be gone from her side the moment morning comes- uncertainty replaced by relief when she finds me still there when she wakes. "Good morning."

I grunted in response, gently pushing her off so I can rise to greet the day. Leliana dresses herself in her underclothes and lies back to admire the sight of me doing the same, "It's still early, you know. Come back to bed."

I throw an amused smirk her way, "Hmph, tempting but no. Today will be a busy day for me. I must prepare a decent breakfast for Riven, then I need to head over to town for the Red Iron's bounties. Life does not reward the idle. I'm sorry, but I cannot accomodate you this time."

Leliana props her head on one elbow and sighs, "I guess I should get to work too."

"You know, you never mentioned what the other reason you're here in Kirwall was." I said, picking up the rogue's discarded clothing and handing it to her. "I noticed the Chantry's insignia on your jacket. Working for someone in particular?"

Leliana dons her cloak and smiles, letting me in on her secret. "I work for the Divine now, Langerd. My visit to Kirkwall was because of her concern regarding the city's Knight Commander Meredith."

"Meredith huh?" I muttered, sliding my shirt over my arms and down my chest. "And did your investigation prove fruitful?"

"She seems to be doing her job well." She answered. "So, I guess Justinia can breathe a little easier now."

Together, we fix up the room and left for the dining room. I had left the dishes from last night unwashed, so I put that task first before fixing up the meal.

"Let me cook breakfast." Leliana offered, "It's the least I can do for your hospitality." There was a knowing smirk on the woman's face at that last part, a fact that I took into account and found my face flushing in embarrassment.

"As you wish." I said, silently going about my chores.

The woman lights the fires on the hearth, boiling the remains of the broth of last night's supper and mixing a handful of sliced onions with the strips of bacon that I bought yesterday. With a small addition of her own design, Leliana prepared a delicious pot of stew that rivals that of anything I could ever make. Truly, cooking is something women take to more than men do, and in her case she was a master.

"That smells nice." I compliment her on a job well done.

Riven comes down the stairs, rubbing her eyes as she adjusted to the wee hours of the morning. "Papa?"

Leliana throws me this look of astonishment, then continues to stare as I tended to the girl's needs. I give Riven a hug and a little kiss on her temple, "Good morning, princess. Slept well?" The child yawns and shakes her head. "Aw, what's wrong? Is the bed mattress too hard for you?"

"I kept hearing loud noises during the night." She complained, tired eyes looking up at me with uncertainty. "I think this castle's haunted."

I throw a sidewards glance at the orlesian rogue, knowing that those 'noises' came from her enthusiasm over last night's tryst, then turned to calm the child's fears. "Don't worry, little one. You were right in saying this castle is haunted, but not anymore. Those noises were from me chasing them out of the stones and far away from here. They were a little stubborn about giving up their home, but I made it clear that we're here to stay."

It was a good thing children are naturally gullible, and Riven was no exception to this, though I had to note that she was intelligent enough to be skeptical. "Really? But what if-

"Hush now, child." I stopped her in mid-sentence before she figures it out. "I told you, Papa took care of it. Now come, breakfast is ready."

"Okay."

As Riven takes her place at the table, she notices for the first time the guest at our kitchen. "Papa, who's that?"

"That, my dear girl, is one of Papa's closest friends." Didn't want to use the term 'lover', she's far too young to know what that means. "She's here to visit, talk, and just do what friends do."

"Like Bethany?"

Close enough. "Yes, like Bethany."

"Hi there." Riven greeted the rogue as she brought the pot to the table, "I'm Riven. What's your name?"

Polite little lass that one. "Hello, I'm Leliana. It's good to finally meet you, Riven."

The scene brought back a memory from the deepest recesses of my fading soul. A mother and her child, sitting on opposite ends of the table, waiting for me to come home. I still cannot remember their faces, nor can I remember their names, but their voices call out to me. The plead for me to return, to join them in oblivion.

"Papa, would you like to say grace?"

I return to the present quickly, then shook my head. "I don't pray, you know that. Leliana, would you do this simple honor for me?"

"Of course." The rogue replied, bowing her head in reverence. "Our Sovereign Lord and Revered Prophetess in Heaven, bless this food we are about to partake in your holy name. Amen."

* * *

Her horse whinnies as the wait sets a faint restlessness on her. I approach the rogue as she gets ready for the long journey back to Orlais. "Leaving already?"

Leliana smiled, obviously pleased that I was capable of missing her should I find her absent. "I must return to deliver my report to the Divine, Langerd. I'm sorry that I cannot stay any longer."

"A night and three hours of the morning is hardly long." I pointed out, "But I understand. I too have my duties to attend to, don't let me keep you."

She draws close and puts her arms around my neck, "I'll come back and visit again soon, I promise." Leliana plants a long kiss upon my lips.

"I'm in no hurry." I replied.

Leliana takes a moment to glance back at the child, who was busy picking the flowers out of the bushes around the keep. "She's lucky to have you. Take good care of her, Langerd, I see a bright future ahead of that girl."

"If you say so."

With all goodbyes said, Leliana gallops away into the gates of Kirkwall. If I'm honest with myself, I hated seeing her go. I turned back to pick up Riven, then we headed out together into Lowtown so I can let Leandra continue with her schooling of the child. This way, the Hawke matriarch could have a stable enough job to support her family while Riven gains the full benefit of the company of trusted friends and the much-needed education that most children have not been graced with. I headed for the Red Iron Guild, as planned, and picked the most difficult of bounties on the job board.

There were six bounties that I found to my liking, all of them concerning renegade mages and cutthroat slavers lurking in the dunes and caverns of the Wounded Coast. Life was good to me, and I relished the opportunity to devour more souls. I take to whatever joys I can find in this world, and they are so few.

But there was one particular assignment that got my attention the most among the six. It wasn't a bounty, officially speaking, but a personal favor asked of me by my old friend Loki through a sealed letter. The assignment, weighed by the promise of a hefty reward and an interesting implication, was handed to me through Meeran himself. The seal remained unbroken when it was handed to me, earning some trust points for the Guildmaster. Loki did not have the opportunity to deliver the quest to me personally, having been taken elsewhere by his duties to his liege, but I was more than willing to return the favor.

It was no secret that the nobles were concerned about the dangers posed by the mage underground in Kirkwall, and this quest of mine involved them quite so. I was to conduct an investigation into these mages, most of them apostates who have fled the Circle of Magi and have gone dark. Curiously enough, the instructions of this quest implied heavily that I was not to disrupt the goings-on of the mage underground in any way, for to do so was to draw the attention of the Templars. I was wade into the thick of it, find out what all the fuss was about, then report back to Loki who will then relay my findings to his lord.

The concerns of my betters I shall leave out of the issue. If the reward was heavy enough, I shall do it with no questions asked.

I disguised myself as an ordinary-looking peasant, masking my features within a tattered cowl and leaving my bradden-steel armor behind. When I paused to decide which weapon I would bring when I infiltrate the mage underground, I looked no further than the obsidian blade and my trusty geisteel sword. These weapons have become a part of me as if they were my two arms. I shall take them with me through the grave and beyond.

I made the arrangements for Bethany to look after Riven for me at Duskcaller Keep once I had accepted Loki's favor, then headed into Darktown. I had always thought Lowtown was a pig sty of a slum, but upon seeing the underbelly of Kirkwall, my perspective on the city changed. I had been in filthier places before, and this counted as one of them. Sewer ducts hung open like horrid gashes in the earth, spilling their contents out into the streets and unleashing a stench that could only be rivaled by that of a thousand corpses rotting at once- and I've been among such company! Shabby shacks lined the soiled and mist-covered streets, rats ran up and down where darkness reigned, and diseased-ridden denizens wandered freely like shambling corpses.

"Damn." I muttered, "Doesn't look like it needs the Darksign to bring about ruin."

I ignored the beggars groveling at my feet, showing steel when cutthroats emerged from the shadows, and overall tried to blend in with the populace. It wasn't easy, but I managed to catch on to the trail of the mage underground. No one will believe me, but their trail is quite obvious. How they managed to elude the Templars all this time is beyond me.

Or perhaps it's quite simple. Nobody wants to tread through shit and piss just to catch a few mages. People of Thedas, prissy snobs the lot of them.

"Another wanders in, boys." A deep voice comes from another murdering thug. "Get him, quick!" Knives and makeshift swords glint in the dim light of Darktown, and seven burly men emerge to pounce on their supposed prey. "I get his boots!"

I flip my cloak aside and cleave a man in two clean halves with the obsidian blade, stopping the whole gang in its tracks. If I had to guess, this was the first time they made the mistake of tangling with the wrong target. Most victims that have fallen to them have been the local beggars, or some unfortunate lass they had their way with and left-for-dead the following morning. If so, too bad.

Tonight, they die.

"Burn." I breathed, allowing the flames to burst free from me and consume them in one quick flash. Skin splits open, blood boils and evaporates to thin air, flesh coils and snaps as the fires eat at their bodies. Their screams were like music to my ears, and I smiled at their twitching, charred corpses collapsed upon the dirt. Their souls leave their ruined vessels with calmed sighs, a stark contrast to the violent ends the thieves suffered.

I chuckled morbidly, sheathing my blade so I can continue on my way. "Ah, I do enjoy the little things in life."

"You're a mage!" Someone gasps in the darkness, and a woman steps out into the light. She was dressed in little more than a revealing collection of wrappings that clung tightly to her thighs, hips and breasts. Beyond that, her skin was bared for the world to see. A book was strapped to her belt, and she carried a quarterstaff with an ebony blade fixed at its tip. "I haven't seen you around here before, are you here to seek shelter?"

Aha. "Yes."

"Come with me, then. Quickly now, before anyone else sees you." She beckons. I follow the apostate through the alleyways and out into the deepest part of Darktown that I didn't even knew could possibly exist. Clearly, the maps of the City of Chains were incomplete, and only those of its underbelly would know of the vast network of catacombs, tunnels and sewersystems that line the heart of the mountain forming the back of Kirkwall.

As soon as I stepped into the unknown city within the city, I knew I was on the right track.

The apostate mage pulls down her cowl, revealing autumn hairlocks that barely concealed the pointy ears sticking out of her head. "I am Nerissa, welcome to our humble dwelling. If you're looking for shelter, it doesn't come without cost. Are you willing to pitch in for the benefit of all your fellow fugitives?"

Fair enough, gotta earn my keep around here. "I am willing."

We were approached by two other mages, both elven and marked with strange bloodsmears that resembled glyphs of unknown origin. They cast ritualistic spells over me as a precaution, and didn't seem to be alarmed in any way much to my relief, then left to attend to other matters. Nerissa guided me into the largest building carved into the rock, a place where all the other mages gathered to hear the voice of their leaders. From the look of things, it seemed I had walked into a would-be revolution. For now, the flames have yet to be stoked, but it did not make the matter any less concerning.

"You're in luck, it's just begun." Nerissa whispered, pulling me into the crowd.

Upon the pedestal stood three hooded arcanists, the middle of whom took the most of my attention. He wore dark leather armor, decorated with the thorns of an ancient bramble bush, and carried the symbol of the Tevinter Imperium. Clearly, I had missed most of the man's speech, but I caught on enough to know what they were up to.

"Magic was made to serve man, not rule him- said the Prophetess Andraste when she faced the Tevinter Imperium." His voice was a harsh boom, further amplified by the dome-shaped ceiling of the makeshift bastion. "Indeed, and for a time it seemed her words carried much wisdom in them. For a cause to break the chains of slavery, it was a worthy sacrifice. But in these latter days, the Prophetess' words have been twisted by the Chantry! They have sullied the memory of Andraste by enslaving us- children of the Maker gifted with his breath of creation!"

At this, there was only silence from the crowd, for they knew the pain of persecution. "In times past, no amount of rebellion could make them see reason- nor will they do so if the odds were in our favor. But all that changes today!"

An artefact was brought forth, a formless mist that writhed and swirled at the open hand of the renegade arcanist. "Feast your eyes, brothers and sisters! I hold in my hand both our salvation and our vindication! The Mists of Time are at our side! Never again shall a mage be made Tranquil against their will, never again shall a child of magic be ripped from its mother's arms! Tonight, watch as Kirkwall breathes its last, for at the stroke of the twelfth hour shall the city drown in the very limbo it had once sought to subject us to!"

The crowd roars its approval, but I shared none of their jubilation. "Freedom for all mages!"

A good thing I had taken to this task on short notice, Kirkwall was in danger and at the moment it falls on me to save it. "Godsdammit." I slipped free from the crowd and headed around for a quick route into the back of the bastion. My plan, poorly formulated, was that I would take that wretched artefact from the renegade arcanist's hands or destroy it if I cannot have it.

 **}!{**


	30. Darktown's Underbelly Part Two

**}!{**

 _Kirwall will drown._

Since when has any mage in Thedas obtained the power to control time? Something was off with this revolt, and if I had to guess the hand of the Dark One was involved in it. Not too hard to think of the possibility, why wouldn't he be involved?

I barged into a vacant room filled with assorted transmutation equipment. Staves of all shapes and sizes were crafted in this place, some crude and others quite impressive. This mage collective is disorganized at most, but rallied together under the banner of the vindictive arch-acolyte they are just as dangerous as any army. Many of them harbor the anger of a hundred years of persecution, ready to make manifest under the arcane flames unleashed upon the city above.

In other circumstances, I couldn't care less what they do with Kirkwall. The city had brought this upon itself, and there are many reasons why I wouldn't lift a finger to save it. But only one reason was enough to make me decide otherwise. This was Riven's home, corrupt and distasteful as it is, therefore it was mine to protect.

Tonight, Kirkwall sleeps soundly, never knowing the danger lurking beneath.

I followed the scent of magic throughout the long corridors of the tunnels extending further inside the bastion. The guardians did not take to my presence well, and when words could not persuade me to back down, weapons were drawn to show me the error of my ways.

Instead, I showed them theirs.

Bright red flashes across my eyes as the flames fly free, consuming flesh and cloth hungrily as I flung fireballs here and there. The mages, taken by surprise with my sudden hostile approach, did not raise their staves quickly enough to defend themselves. They perished far easier compared to the warriors I've slain, probably because they spent half of their lives enclosed in a library instead of the battlefield. I pressed on, unmindful of the strong blast of scents wafting from the charred corpses. One kick, and the heavy doors swing open.

I enter the innermost sanctuary of the bastion, where the ritualist acolytes gathered to prepare the necessary steps to prime the artefact. Much to my displeasure, the Arch-Arcanist was nowhere to be found. Venting my frustration on the helpless mages, I cut their corpses down to pieces and moved on. A few of them, desperate enough, summoned demons from the Fade.

My lips twist into a snarl at the sight of the summoning, "Did you think those parasites will save you?" The obsidian blade hums with unnatural energies in my hand, my fingers tighten around the handle in response. "Come on, do your worst!" They howl and shriek, lunge and claw. The spirits, lasting even lesser than their summoners, were promptly driven back into the hellhole they crawled out of. The mages, seeing that all was lost, bolted for the exit- a foolish move since I had a clear line of fire as they exposed their flanks to me.

Lightning crackles in my half-closed palm, and I thrust my arm outwards, releasing the bolt and killing the mages in retreat. "Disappointing." I muttered, wiping my blades clean of demon and summoner blood. Moving on, I paused to torch the whole room to prevent anyone from salvaging anything, then headed up the massive staircase leading into the tower of the bastion. If the Arch-Arcanist was anywhere, it was likely up there, where the artefact would be best used.

I was not wrong in this assumption, for soon I came face to face with the mage himself.

He stood close to Nerissa, the elven girl-mage that brought me into the enclave in the first place. She was busy talking to my quarry, and it took a full minute before they were alerted to my presence. The guards, automatons within hollow brass armor, moved to attack. The obsidian blade slashed sidewards twice, and the guardians fell to pieces. The Arch-Arcanist still held the Mists of Time in his hand, and his brow archs at the sight of me. "Who goes there?"

"The one sent to stop you." I replied simply, "Your plans to destroy Kirkwall are at an end."

"Wait..." Nerissa stammers, "You! W-What are you..."

"Stand aside, girl." I rumbled, "My quarrel is not with you."

"No!" The elf shouts, drawing her staff and barring my path towards the Arch-Arcanist. "You will not touch him!"

Without a moment's hesitation, I thrust my blade into her belly before she could summon her first spell. Nerissa's eyes fill with tears, and her mouth gapes as her lungs were robbed of air. Blood spills into the floor of the tower, and she sank to her knees as strength leaves her. I close my eyes and sighed, "I warned you." The blade slides free with a soft hiss, and I step over the dying girl to claim the life of the leader of the rebellion. "Come, let's make this quick."

"Indeed."

The hand that held the artefact rises, and for some reason I felt my legs grow heavy. I move at a sluggish pace, though my thoughts remained at the same. The Arch-Arcanist smiles, mouth forming slow sentences as he unleashes the power of the Mists of Time.

* * *

Bright red flashes across my eyes as the flames fly free, consuming flesh and cloth hungrily as I flung fireballs here and there. The mages, taken by surprise with my sudden hostile approach, did not raise their staves quickly enough to defend themselves. They perished far easier compared to the warriors I've slain, probably because they spent half of their lives enclosed in a library instead of the battlefield. I pressed on, unmindful of the strong blast of scents wafting from the charred corpses. One kick, and the heavy doors swing open.

I enter the innermost sanctuary of the bastion, where the ritualist acolytes gathered to prepare the necessary steps to prime the artefact. Much to my displeasure, the Arch-Arcanist was nowhere to be found. Venting my frustration on the helpless mages, I cut their corpses down to pieces and moved on. A few of them, desperate enough, summoned demons from the Fade.

My lips twist into a snarl at the sight of the summoning, "Did you think those parasites will save you?" The obsidian blade hums with unnatural energies in my hand, my fingers tighten around the handle in response. "Come on, do your worst!" They howl and shriek, lunge and claw. The spirits, lasting even lesser than their summoners, were promptly driven back into the hellhole they crawled out of. The mages, seeing that all was lost, bolted for the exit- a foolish move since I had a clear line of fire as they exposed their flanks to me.

Lightning crackles in my half-closed palm, and I thrust my arm outwards, releasing the bolt and killing the mages in retreat. "Disappointing." I muttered, wiping my blades clean of demon and summoner blood.

Then, I stopped, frowning in confusion as I took a minute to study my surroundings. "Wait...I've been here before." Then suddenly, I remembered! The Arch-Arcanist used the artefact to throw me back into the past, an hour before my arrival at the high tower!

The power of such a weapon...this will make my job taking him down a little harder.

If I can remember what happened, then so can he. The element of surprise will not be on my side this time, but I am still on par with his abilities. No doubt he would have a lot more allies to protect him at the next bout, but I know they won't be enough to stop me. My only worry would be if he uses that artefact a second time.

Come to think of it, how many times will I have to repeat this if I fail again?

Like before, I torch the room before heading up the staircase, knowing how important it is to avoid getting any of the valuables salvaged by the end of this ordeal. The moment I step into the highest point of the tower, I realized my assumptions on the Arch-Arcanist's protective entourage was correct. He brought a company of fifteen summoned skeleton warriors, all wearing loosely patched armor and bearing rusty weapons plucked from nearby graves.

The Arch-Arcanist stood next to Nerissa, who was busy discussing some matters of great import like the first time I saw her. Upon hearing the crash of the guardian automatons' armor parts falling upon the tower floor, she looks on in astonishment. Her master, however, looked on in amusement at the sight of me. "Ah. Back for more? I can do this all day."

"Oh, I don't doubt you can." I march onwards, dispatching the skeletons with fifteen casual swings of my swords.

"You will not touch him!" The elf-girl shouts, drawing her staff and uttering the first words to her spell.

She doesn't get far, and I killed her as quickly as the first, severing her head from her shoulders with one slash of the obsidian blade. Her body falls slack, then topples over, toes and fingers twitching nervously like a stuck crab. Again I sighed, then moved towards her master, a little faster this time.

My legs grow heavy. I move at a sluggish pace, though my thoughts remained at the same. The Arch-Arcanist smiles, mouth forming slow sentences as he unleashes the power of the Mists of Time.

Fucking hell, not again!

* * *

"GODSDAMMIT ALL!"

Bright red flashes across my eyes as the flames fly free, consuming flesh and cloth hungrily as I flung fireballs here and there. The mages, taken by surprise with my sudden hostile approach, did not raise their staves quickly enough to defend themselves. They perished far easier compared to the warriors I've slain, probably because they spent half of their lives enclosed in a library instead of the battlefield. I pressed on, unmindful of the strong blast of scents wafting from the charred corpses. One kick, and the heavy doors swing open.

I enter the innermost sanctuary of the bastion, where the ritualist acolytes gathered to prepare the necessary steps to prime the artefact. Much to my displeasure, the Arch-Arcanist was nowhere to be found. Venting my frustration on the helpless mages, I cut their corpses down to pieces and moved on. A few of them, desperate enough, summoned demons from the Fade.

My lips twist into a snarl at the sight of the summoning, "Did you think those parasites will save you?!" The obsidian blade hums with unnatural energies in my hand, my fingers tighten around the handle in response. "Come on, do your worst!" They howl and shriek, lunge and claw. The spirits, lasting even lesser than their summoners, were promptly driven back into the hellhole they crawled out of. The mages, seeing that all was lost, bolted for the exit- a foolish move since I had a clear line of fire as they exposed their flanks to me.

Lightning crackles in my half-closed palm, and I thrust my arm outwards, releasing the bolt and killing the mages in retreat.

The entourage triples in size this seventh time, and the Arch-Arcanist smiles at the sight of me, my persistence clearly amusing him beyond measure. "Do you not tire of this venture, stranger?"

My chest heaves, body wracked with pain at the arrows, the burns and the ice-shards all over my unarmored body. All of his guardians were dead, including Nerissa. Nothing stood in my way, save for the artefact. I was tired, angry, and nearing the end of my patience. "If only you knew the hell I come from, you wouldn't have to ask about the measure of my patience."

His brow archs at my words, then he sighs. "Very well, I propose a temporary truce." He steps over the charred remains of the skeleton overlords and extends his hand in a non-threatening manner. "Will you have words with me, stranger?"

I grit my teeth, reached for the estus flask and drank deeply from its contents. "What words will quench my desire to kill you? There shall be none!"

"Have it your way then." He shrugged nonchalantly, "I could send you back this...what is it again? Oh yes! This eighth time. And we can go through this limbo over and over again. I swear, this is the best fun I've had with the Mists in years! Are you willing to go through all that trouble? Or will you at least hear me out first?"

I consider his words, almost deciding on giving in to my desire for vengeance, but then considered the option of the opposite. With that, I sheathed my blades and approached the mage, careful not to spook him into throwing me back in time in the process. "What would you like to talk about?"

"First, the introductions." He smiled, "My name is Sovndere, born of Par Vollen and half-child of the Qunari. I lead this simple cabal of mages for the simple purpose of freeing Thedas from the fear of magic."

"My name is Langerd." I replied with great reluctance, "Born a Heideian, died a Heideian, and rose again as an Undead. Frankly, I don't care about your motives, I only care about what you're going to do with that artefact."

"An undead, you say?" Sovndere mused, "And by whose authority, pray tell, do you have the right to judge me? You are a mage yourself, do you not desire justice for your fellows as I do? Or have you been corrupted by the Chantry into thinking that magic must be chained?"

"And you..." I glared at the mage, "Are you willing to sacrifice so many innocents just to prove a point? There is nothing to discuss here, Sovndere. I am not the kind of man you can twist into thinking as you do. No, I am the man who shall end you."

"You seek to save Kirkwall?" Sovndere chuckled, "How can you, when I hold the power to call on the waves of the Olden Days to swallow up the city? How can you stop me, when I can throw you across the centuries at the mere flex of my fingers?"

"By cutting off your hand." I answered, drawing my blade in a flash and lopping off the mage's arm with one swing!

Sovndere screams in agony and throws me back with a bolt of lightning. He staggers backwards, holding the bleeding stump where his arm used to be. His pride was all I needed to bide my time, and I pounced at just the right moment. The hand that holds the artefact lay within reach, but I knew better than to leave it at anyone's hands- no pun intended.

"A lesson for you, Lord Sovndere." I declared, raising the obsidian blade over the artefact. "Time is sand, and no man can hold it- no matter how tight your fingers close." With that said, I thrust the blade down upon the Mists of Time.

Suddenly, the whole world seemed to slow down at a snail's pace. I saw Sovndere, moving up with an outstretched hand, throwing a gout of flame that moved just as slowly. Eldritch energies crackled as the artefact's power erupted, shattering the obsidian blade to a thousand shards and consuming my right arm- all that I witnessed helplessly as I could not move to act! The power within the Dark One's gift was unleashed, and like a thousand shadowy hands, they grasped at what was left of my arm and bore deep into my soul!

I utter a soundless scream as the light burns out all sensation, bringing pain, then finally...darkness.

* * *

The undercity lies in ruins, destroyed by the resulting implosion of chaos energies.

I lay on my back amongst the rubble, dazed and confused about what happened. What disturbed me the most was that I felt as if a veil was lifted from my mind. Destroying the Mists of Time disturbed something within the Darksign, allowing the myriad of memories lost to the ages to come rushing back at me!

I saw it all, heard it all, felt it all- like a slap to the face!

Visions of glorious Heide, clad in splendor and majesty. The mighty kingdom I was born to, the proud days of my knighthood and the love of my family. Happy ones as much as the darkest memories, those that I was more than happy to forget, they all came back to me.

I held up my hand, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the green fires burning all around me. "What the hell?" Its skin gleamed like the night where the sun and moon withheld their light, glossy and unnatural, but was nonetheless alluring. I had lost the obsidian blade, only to regain it to replace my lost limb? I cannot decide whether or not that was good.

Still, there is small cause for rejoicing.

Tonight, Kirkwall sleeps soundly, never knowing the danger lurking beneath.

 **}!{**


	31. Wayward Son

**}!{**

 _The lost memories...I remember them all._

 _I was the youngest son of three. I had an older brother who later grew up to be the best warmonger the kingdom ever saw, and a sister gifted with magic unlike any other. I was of a lesser house, among hundreds of clans united under the banner of the High King of Heide- Ares of House Halcyon._

 _Under his leadership, the Kingdom of Heide grew prosperous, and my family along with it._

 _Yet, like all kingdoms before us, there came an end. It came in in the subtlest of ways, under the guise of madness over our beloved king._

 _Heideian religion was formed by the Way of the Blue, a simple worship of the Cerulean Dragon who first parted the waves of the sea so our people could live upon Heide. From the Way of the Blue came Ares' fascination of water- how something so formless could just as easily take a life as give it. In his madness, Ares saw traitors everywhere, having been dealt a blow to the heart by an assassin's attempt to kill him and his entire family one night. He trusted no one, had a tower built high upon his palace and took the throne with him. Day after day, he sat alone, muttering to himself about all those that might do him harm._

 _He drowned nobles that defied him for the simplest of trespasses, he drowned his own children when they approached the tower to persuade him to let a healer tend to his ailing mind. He saw all were against him._

 _It did not take long before the whole kingdom was indeed against him, and by this time the enemies of Heide were at its gates. Throughout the siege, as his subjects begged for salvation, the maddened king decreed a drastic measure. But even in his madness, the order seemed sound enough._

 _I didn't care, I was young and ambitious, I only cared about the glory of accomplishing such a task._

 _The Tidecaller's Sceptre, a divine tool fashioned by the gods to deliver their swift judgment upon all those who sought to harm their creations, was a thing of legend. No one thought it existed, all save for Mad Ares. He sent me and a detachment of the best Knights of Heide, and to make the long story short we succeeded in finding the Sceptre._

 _Upon our return, we were given honorary titles. I was named the Royal Aegis, and I was taken into the palace- where I would present the Sceptre for the King to use to save his kingdom- in spite of his madness. I should've known better than to follow duty over common sense._

 _"Drown them all!" Mad Ares cried, raising the weapon of the gods high up as soon as it was in his grasp. "Drown them all!"_

 _The waves of the sea came crashing down upon the armies of our enemies. But they did not stop there, for Ares had a different plan of Heide's Salvation. "Drown them all!" He kept screaming, cackling with glee as the waters poured into the streets, sweeping all who stood and washing away walls and towers._

 _I did what I should have done, what anyone should have done a long time ago, and drove my blade through the Mad King's heart._

 _"Drown them all!" He gasped, falling over and spilling his black blood all over the marble floor. "Drown them...all."_

 _I don't know what went through the Mad King's mind. Perhaps he wanted to drown with us, then rise from the deep, be reborn as the Cerulean Dragon._

 _I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen._

* * *

My gaze darkens as I stare into the flames of the fireplace, all my memories- be it good or ill- fresh upon my freed mind.

"I don't believe it." Loki muttered, stroking his chin as he slowly digested this revelation. "All that...just a breath away from reducing this whole city to nothing!"

"And yet we're all here, more or less alive." Lord Kentigan, Loketti's liege and my patron, commented. "Thanks to you, Ser Langerd."

"I am no 'ser', milord." I answered, "I am a mercenary, and I have fulfilled my duty. I trust that you have the reward Loki has promised?"

Kentigan nodded, no doubt taking note of my shrewd nature as he gauged me throughout the discussion. This won't be the last time he will call for my services, which was fine by me, I needed the money. "Of course." He reached inside his jacket and drew out a half-inch thick document marked with the symbol of the Gilded Hand, one of the land's most prestigious banking clans, representing the treasuries where all wealth flowed in the Free Marches. "Dare I assume you know what these documents are for?"

"Credit weighs as much as gold does." I replied, reaching for the papers and taking them out of Kentigan's hands. "Yes, milord. I know what those documents are for." I tuck the parchments into my belt and prepared to go on my way, "Pleasure doing business with you. Gentlemen, I shall take my leave."

"Ahem, milord, permit me leave as well." Loki said, "I must have a quick word with my friend as he leaves the estate grounds."

"Don't be long, Locketti." Kentigan turns back to his desk, surface full of papers to sign and go over.

Loki keeps in step with me as I exited the lord's study and into the gardens of his estate. This was the first time I've entered Hightown, and I have to admit, it earned its name well. The place looked like something out of an architect's wet dream, expensive and equally exquisitely crafted from assorted stones and marble. The man breathes in the air filled with the scents of Lady Kentigan's roses, "Ah, nice day ain't it?"

"After what I've just been through?" I said, eyeing my arm concealed in leather wrappings and a thick studded glove. "Yes, I believe it is a 'nice' day."

"Come now, don't look so glum, old friend." Loki showed me to the gate, "That whole thing about your arm, it's nothing that a good potion somewhere won't cure."

"I suppose." I rolled my eyes, "Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Loki puts one hand on the latch of the gate and pauses for a second, "Alright. If I could be honest with you, Langerd, I'm worried. I don't usually fuss over things, that's a woman's job, but in your case there's the exception. I want you to know that if you need anything, I'll always be here to lend a hand."

I smiled at my friend's loyalty. I hardly deserved such devotion, but I welcome it nonetheless. "Good day, Loki."

"Be safe, Langerd." He shook my hand and bade me goodbye.

I stepped out into the world, into the crowds pressing together at the cramped streets of Hightown. Patiently, I went along with the flow until I came to the gates that separated Hightown from Lowtown. From there, I took the shortest cut towards the Red Iron. Another day was upon me, and I needed to get as many jobs done as I could.

That is, until Hawke happens to find me and drag me on another one of his misadventures.

"Langerd!"

 _Godsdammit._ I sighed wearily and turned, absolutely livid to have that man on my trail so soon after an intense ordeal. "What is it now, Hawke?"

"Are you busy? We need your help with something." Garret proposed, then he paused as his eyes fell on the strange wrappings on my right arm. "What's wrong with your arm?"

"Nothing's wrong with my arm." I frowned, "Look, my patience has been worn down throughout the night. If you have something for me, I suggest you get right to it."

"Anyway, we're heading out into the Coast to rescue someone of great import to Kirkwall- it's the Viscount's son." Garret continued.

"Let me guess; you need someone to wade into the thick of the fight and soak up enemy fire?" I shook my head, "No thank you. If you remember what I've taught you in the Vimmark mountains, you will have no need for a tank."

Garret sighed, "You're the only friend I know who won't lend his help freely. Am I even sure it's accurate to call you that?"

"I _am_ your friend, but I am also a sellsword." I replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "I _sell_ my sword, I don't lend it out for free or it will defeat the purpose of my occupation."

"Oh, but that's where this quest comes in handy!" Varric spoke up, "How much in sovereigns do you think the Viscount will pay for the safe return of his favored son? Easily in your weight, I imagine."

At this, I smiled. "See, Hawke? That's how you get my answer. A little tip, don't appeal to my honor- I hardly give a shit about it anymore." I followed the party out of the streets of Lowtown and into the gates leading out into the Wounded Coast. "So who's the wayward prince we're supposed to haul back to the Viscount?"

"His name's Saemus. The Tal'Vashoth kidnapped him, or so the popular opinion says about the matter." Varric replied.

"You don't believe it?"

He shrugged, "I suppose anything's possible. I mean, life as a prince can get boring, so who's to say he didn't run off with them willingly?"

We cross the dunes and go across the remains of a skirmish, not even stopping to loot the bodies swarmed by carrion birds as we made haste for the place where Seamus was supposedly held. The boy was on his knees before an unknown mercenary, hands on a Qunari's corpse as he glared up at her with misty eyes. "Ashaad...you killed him, you vashedan bitch!"

"Found him." I muttered, drawing my blade out of its sheath.

"That one of their words?" The mercenary wipes the blood off her daggers, "See, you play too close to them. I wager you've gone further than that, haven't you, brat?"

"It's pretty obvious he doesn't want to go with you." Garret declared.

"Competition? Well you're too late." The mercenary replied haughtily, "The Winters...I have already laid claim to him."

"Serah." Seamus said to Garret, "If I am to return home, I refuse to be in the company of these...murderers."

"Spoiled little shit!" The mercenary snarled in response, "I'll cut your tongue out and charge extra for bringing you back quiet!" She turned her gaze to us, "And as for you, I could do with some entertainment."

I raised my arm, feeling the pulse of some unknown, but very powerful, magic course through my veins. All of time slows to a crawl, not unlike the way the Mists of Time artefact did to me when I faced Sovndere. I didn't know what that was supposed to do, just felt the impulse to try it out.

Using this new ability to my advantage, I weaved in an out of the fray, driving my sword through soft flesh where armor failed to protect then stepped back to examine my work. The temporal shroud lifts a minute later, the now-dead mercenaries suddenly clutching their wounds as blood spilled free from lacerated skin. The party was left bewildered at the sight of so many bodies dropping all at once, then turned to astonishment when they see that I alone had blood on my steel.

"Was that your doing?" Varric inquired.

I nodded, feeling the magic in my hand dissipate once used, muttering to myself. "With every conflict, I grow stronger."

"What kind of magic was that?"

"Time." I answered, pointing at the approaching company of Winters mercenaries. "The most powerful of them all. This battle's over before it even began."

"Oh, I like the sound of that." Varric grinned, taking aim and firing a bolt through a reaver's head.

* * *

Seamus was brought back safely into the Viscount's Keep, where his father awaited with a tongue-lashing at the ready. As it turns out, it was by Seamus' doing that he was nabbed by the Qunari in the first place, having been seduced by their doctrine and was possibly trying to convert. At the matter, I merely scoffed, finding the boy's naivete absolutely distasteful.

"Thanks for the assist, Langerd." Garret said once the quest was concluded, handing me a small bag of copper coins. "Here, you deserve this."

"Keep it." I replied, noting that I already received a higher pay than this meager reward. "Your family needs it more than I do."

"Generosity from you, eh?" He said, "Well now, that's out of character!"

My brow arches, "If you don't want it, give it back."

"Alright alright, thanks." He shrugged, keeping the coins and walking with me out of the Keep. "So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to pick up Riven from your place, spend some time with her." I replied, "I've been away from her for far too long."

"By the way, if you're interested..." Hawke paused for another proposition, "Bethany and I have just amassed enough money to pay our way into the Deep Roads Expedition. Look, I know you're quite hesitant about lending a hand- that much is obvious. Just come along if you feel like it, there's a lot of treasures we might come across on the way."

"You've got a lot of other options for companions to bring on that venture, I'm flattered that you'd think of me." I said, "We'll see if I'm able."

"That's good enough for me."

I returned to Lowtown to pick up Riven as planned. The day's lesson had been finished, and the child was excited to share what she'd learned. She talked nonstop of how each letter in the Thedan alphabet was unique, how she learned many new words added to her vocabulary, and many stories picked right out of the Chantry's canticles. Seeing the child grow so fast put a smile on my face. I took her to the market where I bought a small bag of treats, preferably pastries baked from a trusted bakery, and then brought Riven to sit at the Lowtown docks. The child loved watching the boats coming in, especially the big ones hailing from Antiva or Orlais.

As the girl finished her sweetrolls, I whipped out a kerchief and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. Presently, the Rivaini pirate Isabela wanders in on our spot. Riven looks up at me and asks, "Papa, what's a 'slattern'?"

Where the hell did she hear that?

Seeing the best way to explain such a word, I point at Isabela and answered. "That's a slattern."

Goodnaturedly, Isabela shrugged. "Guilty, but damn proud of it too. Hello there, sweetness."

"Hi Aunt Izzy." Riven greeted, offering some of her treats. "Sweetroll?" She calls her 'Aunt' too? The madness of childlike innocence.

"Why, thank you!" Isabela takes a seat beside the child, "Have you been a good girl today?"

"Mm-hm." She repeats everything she told me all day, bringing a smile to the Rivaini's face as well.

"Such a smart girl!" Isabela ruffles the girl's silver locks, "You know, being able to read and write is a treasure, be sure not to waste it. Tell you what, maybe one day you'll teach Aunt Izzy how to do it proper, and Aunt Izzy's gonna teach you a few things."

"Um, things like what?"

I knew where this was going, but I decided not to barge in on the conversation.

Isabela playfully nudges her, "Oh, not here, sweetness. Your father's listening." _Yes, he's little more than three feet away, and has very good ears._ I throw Isabela a disapproving look and stood up, ready to leave the docks to take Riven back home.

"Come, the hour grows late."

"Okay." Riven takes my hand and says her farewell, "Bye, Aunt Izzy! Please stay out of trouble."

 **}!{**


	32. Romantic Getaway

**}!{**

They left at the early hours of morning, when the sun had barely begun its ascension into the sky and as Kirkwall stirred from its long slumber. Though in the end I declined Garret's offer to take me along for the expedition into the Deep Roads, I opted to give him a proper send-off just the same.

"Keep an eye on my family while I'm gone, yeah?" He tells me.

"I can do that." I replied. "May you return in one piece, my friend."

The parting was swift, for the merchant princes of House Tethras were eager to make a name for themselves. Varric, Isabela and that healer Anders- a former Grey Warden possessing the map of the Deep Roads that Hawke recruited from day one- proved to be sufficient enough to back the man on his quest. Bethany, of course, wanted to accompany her brother on the journey, feeling that it was her duty to the Hawke family to watch over him and support his endeavors.

Garret was gentle but firm in his refusal, stating that in this quest they can't both go. Reluctantly, Bethany relented.

I returned to the Keep so I can tend to the growing pile of laundry sitting near Riven's room. A week had passed and the child had already gone through the six suits of clothing I've provided for her. I didn't want to waste money on hiring a servant to do it for me, so I opted to do all the housework myself. The day started off well, with me carrying the basket out into the cistern to fetch my share of water. Here in Kirkwall, they didn't charge for the use of the cistern, but I wasted not a single drop. With the bar of strong lye, I scrubbed the pieces of wool until the bubbles rose up, rinsed and repeated.

The soap irritated my skin to the point that the skin started to shed pieces of itself, but I didn't stop until the grime and scent were replaced by a clean sweet-smelling fabric. Though tedious was the job, I found a strange satisfaction in seeing my work go well. Going back to the castle, I fixed up a clothesline to hang up the finished work. Riven had invited a few of her friends from Lowtown to play with her near the beach. I watched from afar as the children built sandcastles on the shore, raced across the wet sands where the waters touched, laughing and screaming all the while.

The sight brought a small smile to my face, and I paused in my work to take a moment to really appreciate the carefree happiness in my daughter's life.

A little over two months ago, I regarded her as another job, unwilling to claim the child for my own. Her life, early on, was marred by tragedy. Yet how can she move on so quickly, to call me 'father' when there are many others who can assume the role? How the child carries on with the fact that her real parents are dead remains a mystery to me, but I dared not broach the subject.

I leaned against the wooden post sticking out of a bare patch of earth and silently watched Riven, having nothing else to do for the day save for enjoying this moment of respite.

A horse's whinny brings my attention to the road leading up to the Keep, and I smiled as I recognized the rider upon its saddle. "Oh, back already? I expected you to disappear for a month more."

Leliana descends, taking a second to tie her mount to the tree, then she embraces me. Her summer hair smelled of sweet flowers, those of which I cannot place in particular. Her warm greeting was well received, "Just passing through, I'm afraid." She replied, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. It makes sense that she'd be here for a brief visit, being in the employ of the Divine can make one quite busy. "How are things with you?"

"Hectic, but it'll be alright for now." I said, tucking my arm around her waist as we turned to watch the sunset. She notices the straps of leather and bound cloth around my right arm and looks at me strangely. From the gaps where the cloth refused to do its job, she sees the obsidian skin beneath.

"Langerd, what happened to your arm?"

I pursed my lips, debating whether or not I should tell her. In the end, I relented. "I stopped a mage uprising in Darktown just recently, saved Kirkwall from being drowned in its own blood." I held up my arm, yet didn't remove the wrappings. "This is the price I paid to keep the city safe."

"Are you in pain?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

I shook my head, "It tickles from time to time, a minor nuisance at worst. What about you? You said you're just passing through, to where did the Divine send you this time?"

"My task lies in the city of Antiva. Some poor noble constantly nagging Justinia to investigate a maleficar coven hiding in the catacombs. Quite similar to yours, I suppose." She said, "I passed Kirkwall so I can resupply at the market."

"Looking to stay for the week?" I asked. "I've replaced the old mattresses with a decent bed, some furniture and good stock of food to make your days comfortable."

"Oh, how generous of you!" Leliana smiled, "Alas, I cannot remain for more than a night or two. But I can drop by on other days when my tasks take me across the Free Marches."

"Well, in that case, I suppose we would have to make the most of it then."

"Oh really?" Leliana leaned in close, the scent of her hair growing stronger with each covered inch. "How, pray tell, can we make the most out of my brief stay?"

"I can think of a few things." I replied, picking up Mr. Fuzzypants as he dragged his furry hide across my boots and stroked his mane. The cat purrs contentedly and curls up in my arms, "Perhaps dinner under the stars? I didn't trim the growth on the Keep's balcony, the plants add to its charm. Eating under the dim light of candlefire, watching the moon rise to take its place in the sky, I believe it's the perfect opportunity for a...romantic getaway."

"Ooh, I like the sound of that."

I turn my gaze back to the shore, finding to my satisfaction to see Riven sitting under a palm tree with her friends, playing pick-up-sticks. Leliana follows where my eyes lay and rests her head on my shoulder, "What's the story behind Riven? Is she truly yours?"

She's concerned there might be another woman involved. That's fine, I would think so too if I was in her shoes. "No. She's the direct descendant of the Prophetess Andraste herself." Leliana stares at me blankly, possibly trying to judge whether or not I was joking. "This was the task set before me when I left Denerim. I was journeying towards Orlais when I was attacked by another wraith sent by the Dark One. I died, then was dragged into the Fade where I landed in the Maker's throneroom. And yes, I know the story invokes incredulity, but I assure you it is the truth."

"You met the Maker?" Leliana echoed.

"Yes, and it wasn't a pleasant interaction." I said, remembering that bitter exchange of steel between me and the god of Thedas. "Regrettably, I was persuaded by Andraste to take up the quest, and so I soon found myself here in the Free Marches, right outside Kirkwall. There, I chanced upon Riven as she hid from Tal Vashoth invaders. If you've come through the Wounded Coast, you may have seen the charred ruins, the remains of what used to be the child's village."

"Were you able to save anyone else?"

I shook my head, "Just her."

"But what exactly did the Maker want you to do?"

I grinded my teeth together and recalled the god's concern. "Before I tell you that, you must understand something about the Maker. The Golden City, during the first days of Creation, was the citadel of the gods. The Maker was just one among many. As told by Andraste, a war broke out amongst the deities and their blood stained its gilded walls, turning it into the Black City you know today and giving birth to the demons that now roam the Empyrean. The Maker cast down the old gods and took the throne as the Primordial, but he did not defeat all of his rivals. The Dark One, Nahr Alma, he yet lives."

"Who is this Nahr Alma?"

"He is the manifestation of corruption, the one who brought the curse of Undeath to my world and the Blight to yours." I answered to the best of my knowledge, "The Maker fears another war upon him, and so he tasks me to guard Riven and prepare her for such a time."

"I can understand that she's the descendant of Andraste, but what makes her so special that she'd be involved in this?"

I turn my gaze once more to Riven as she builds a sandcastle with her friends, "Riven has a unique ability. Her voice can charm the weak-willed, and can shout mountains into rubble. She also bears the power to heal all wounds and restore vitality." I chuckled as I remembered the time she tore up the hills of the Wounded Coast with her scream. "Andraste requires her strength to aid the Maker when he battles against the Dark One, she cannot do it alone." I look at Leliana and sighed, "At first, I detested this task openly, but now I see clearly. That girl is everything to me, I don't care about the fate of the Maker when Nahr Alma comes for this world but I will die a thousand deaths just to keep Riven safe."

Leliana didn't say anything for a while, she just stared at me in disbelief. "Many things have changed about you, Langerd."

"Indeed, Riven has made me soft."

"Oh I don't know about that." Leliana laughed, "Whatever it is, I like it."

"Ah yes, they tell me I'm an insufferable prick. I'm surprised you managed to put up with me all this time."

"That's the second lesson on love, Langerd." Leliana reaches behind my neck and caresses the bare skin just below the hair, "You have flaws, same as anyone, perhaps more than most. But that won't stop me from ever loving you."

I took the initiative and pulled her close for a kiss, murmuring into her lips the sweetest words I could muster. "I adore you."

* * *

"But I don't wanna go to bed yet." Riven whined, stifling a yawn that undermined her insistence.

"You've been swimming all day, it's not wise to ignore your body." I answered, tucking her inside the folds of her blanket. "Your muscles are practically screaming at you. Now go to sleep, end of discussion."

Riven pouts at my firm refusal but obeys, albeit reluctantly. "Fine."

I smiled, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Now now, my little princess, it's just one night's rest. Come the morning, I'm taking you to Antiva to visit the annual fair they hold in celebration for the Queen's birthday. Your week is about to get interesting."

Riven's tired eyes light up at the mention of that idea, "Antiva? Isn't that where Aunt Izzy comes from?"

"Yes." I ran my fingers through the child's silver locks, "Sleep well tonight, and we'll leave early in the morning, alright?"

Riven sits up and throws her arms around my neck, "Okay. Goodnight, Papa."

I left the child's room and dressed myself up with the best suit I had in my wardrobe. The six hours I had left in the afternoon were put to good use prior to the night's arrival. After a brief visit to the Lowtown market, I brought back the necessary ingredients and cooked the best choice meal for what would be the most sacred of evenings for me, and it goes without saying that it deserves commitment.

My plan was to make pot roast with red wine sauce.

I knew Leliana was a woman of refined tastes, so the idea was pretty much not all that hard to grasp. Fortunately, the kitchens of Lord Kentigan provided me with a much needed cookbook that explained in perfect detail how to accomplish such a delicate procedure. On one option, I could go the extra mile and take up the whole afternoon preparing the beef, but then opted to go for the short version. Perhaps in the future I will go for the former to spice things up.

Beef steak on a skillet. Carrots, tomatoes, salt and pepper, garlic and onions, they all went into the pot. A little bit of pyromancy sped the process up, just in time for me to set the table and chairs at the Keep's balcony. Leliana arrived a few minutes later, wearing fine Orlesian silks that complemented her figure. She chose right, remaining pleasing to the eyes while at the same time remaining unhindered by the thin fabric. Like a rose, beauty among the briers, and sharp as swordpoints.

I take her hand and guided her inside, bringing her up the steps into the balcony where the table lit with red candles awaits. As she walked alongside me, I noticed a leather strap around her thigh where the gap in her dress parted, revealing a pushdagger no bigger than her fist sheathed snugly within the confines of that damnable Orlesian silk.

An agent of the Divine must remain ever-vigilant, even at their leisure.

I sat Leliana down first, then lifted the lid off her plate. Her eyes widened with delight at the sight of the steaming pot roast, still fresh from the flames. She inhales deeply the sweet fumes wafting from the tender meat doused in succulent red wine, "Mmmn..." At this, I smiled, proud that I did a good job.

"Oh, it gets better." I promised, taking my seat opposite of her.

She cuts a slice of the beef, sinks her fork into the red meat and brings it to her mouth. I watch everything, from the motion of her delicate fingers as they bring the offering from the steaming plate up to her waiting mouth, transfixed as her tongue slithers out from her waiting lips and receives the gift.

Lusts of the flesh, all manner of mortal desires, they are all but diminished aspects of my soul. Watching Leliana enjoy something as simple as this exquisite meal was both a bitter reminder of what I can never have and a rare moment in that I find satisfaction in watching others enjoy life in my stead.

"This is..." Leliana takes a mouthful, eyes still wide with wonder. "Langerd, this is amazing!"

"I'm glad you like it." I said, tasting those same flavors she savored, yet not quite finding that same level of bliss. "I wasn't sure which one would suit your fancy, so I went with the safe bet."

"Oh you're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Leliana smirked, bringing her glass up to her lips. She looks out into the open sky, the view of the vibrant city below coupled with the star-flecked heavens above adding to the near-perfect evening dinner. "This is nice. Of all my the days spent staring up into the night, every eve when I make camp with Aedan and the others, rarely have I truly felt contented."

"I'm sure there are more times you've felt as such than you can remember." I replied, "I doubt I've made that big of an impact."

"Oh now, don't say that." Her hands reach forward and take hold of mine. "You have indeed made an impact in my life, deeper than you will ever know."

"Oh?" I tilted my head to the side.

"Yes." Her thumb traces the mound of flesh at the base of my palm, and she chuckles at the memory. "I never showed it, but I was quite shy about what I felt for you when we first met."

"We first met when I died." I reminded her.

"I meant when you aided us in the search of Andraste's ashes." Leliana corrected herself, "Back then, I saw a noble warrior blessed with the Maker's strength and possessing an indomitable will. You were a gruff, irritable man, but those were your only flaws and they can be ignored. You were a knight without a purpose, ever fumbling about for one, but you helped save Ferelden from the Blight." The rogue squeezes my hand affectionately, "I've never known another who has displayed such selflessness even in the face of despair. Don't put yourself down, my love. Even with this curse of Undeath, you remain irrevocably human, and I love you all the more for it."

"I do not deserve such devotion." I smiled sadly, "But I am grateful all the same." My hands squeeze hers in return, "You and Riven are the light of my life. If this is the limbo I shall be interned within, I shall tread it knowing that your love warms my soul. Thank you, Leliana." After finishing that lovely dinner, I got up and took Leliana to the edge of the balcony, watching the moon in all its brilliant splendor in each other's arms. Here, I told her of my plans for the next day. "Perhaps you won't have to suffer the agony of leaving my side for Antiva."

"What are you talking about?" She asks, turning around and leaning on the stone railing.

"I'm talking about going to Antiva..." I answered, leaning forward as her arms snake over my shoulders. "...together."

"But...what about Riven?"

"She's coming too." I said, not even bothering to ask if she had a problem with it. "If I recall correctly, news of the fair opening on the Queen's birthday is quite reliable. It will work well for all of us."

"You certainly know how to make a woman happy." Leliana remarked, an odd twinkle showing in her eye.

I knew what that meant even before she drew close and whispered seductively in my ear, "I'm hungry, Langerd."

 **}!{**


	33. Antiva

**}!{**

Her breath was warm on my chest, a welcome change to Kirkwall's autumn breeze.

The new guest room was a mess. Wine and lust don't go well together, as proven by the results of last night's tryst. The furniture was cast aside, curtains torn, and the legs of the bed showed several cracks where the relentless pounding wore it down. Gonna have to fix that soon.

She stirs, shivering as the cold air wafting from the windows tickled her bare skin. Her bright green eyes open, she looks at me with that warm smile and nuzzles my neck. "Good morning." I return her greeting with a tender rub at her shoulder, then rose up to prepare for the long journey ahead. Riven got out of bed early, too excited to let herself stay asleep for long. I dressed up quickly and met her down the hall.

We packed up the bags full of the child's clothes, her collection of straw dolls and a sketchbook. Leliana insisted on taking charge of this responsibility, including her selection of what my own wardrobe should contain. Personally, I didn't care what she chose for me as long as I've got something to wear. But if I'm honest with myself, I found her choices on my behalf to be a little too...colorful for my taste.

With our stuff all packed, I loaded them all into the wagon, setting up a comfy spot with a few mattresses to accommodate my little girl. She, of course, wanted to ride in the front with me. The trip was sure to be long and taxing on everyone, so I brought along a few books to keep Riven from getting bored. I braced myself for the wave of questions the child was sure to bombard me with, not that I hated the conversations we had, yet it proved to be exasperating just the same.

I said my farewells to the Hawke family, along with the others of Garret's company whom I considered close enough to be called friends, and set off for the borders of Antiva, located Northeast of the Free Marches.

"Any word from our old comrades as of late?" I inquired after we had traveled along the main road for a while, joining a small caravan heading for Rialto, one of the cities held in the Antivan province.

"Why Langerd, I didn't know you cared!" Leliana teased. "

"Oh I do, at the very least I want to know what became of them." I answered.

"Well, things aren't going so smoothly with Aedan and Morrigan last I've heard."

"Do they ever?" I said in a sardonic tone, "What's up with those two now?"

"I don't know exactly. Aedan insisted on taking up this quest on his own, and now they've both gone dark. Honestly, I'm a little worried."

I shook my head, "They'll be fine. Most likely it's another one of those elaborate games that little witch is playing on her lover. I'm sure they're off on some sunny shore, sipping wine on glossed glass, nursing the little one they've created together."

"They do?" Leliana asks in wonder. "How are you so sure?"

"You can ask them yourself soon enough." I replied, "I'm certain they won't stay hidden for too long."

"Papa, what does 'plutocratic' mean?" Riven calls from the wagon, head bent over another book.

I leaned back, trying to recall what the word meant. "Plutocratic. It's a type of government controlled by the wealthy." I look at the title of the book she was reading, realizing it was about the history of the province we were heading for. "Antiva's ruled by the rich; it's the most dangerous kind of society a kingdom would have."

"Why?"

"Well, picture an impulsive lord or lady with as much influence as a king or queen. The slightest provocation, and with thousands of lives resting upon their every move, can spark a petty squabble that can ruin the nation overnight. I've seen many a people collapse under those circumstances."

Riven looked at me innocently, "If it's so dangerous, why are we going there in the first place?"

I pursed my lips and nodded slowly. That was actually a good point, "Ah don't worry, little one. We're not moving to Antiva, we're just heading there for the fair. That's all."

"And you have nothing to fear." Leliana added, "Langerd and I will protect you."

"Okay." Riven said with a smile, returning to her book.

* * *

We arrived at Seleny, one of the many cities under Antivan rule, famed for its graceful bridges sculpture. Like the hand-dug hills of Brightstone Cove, the little city sits atop earthen terraces. We packed our belongings into the room owned by Leliana's trusted contact, then proceeded down into the heart of the city. Riven takes in the exotic wonders of the Rivaini province with widened eyes, eagerly soaking in every detail as she stared dumbly at everything around her.

Knowing that the child was easily distracted, I kept a firm hand on her wrist as we walked the streets of Seleny, and one extended as Leliana wrapped hers on mine. Dusk had broken over the horizon, welcoming the festivities planned as celebration, and the streets we walked soon grew overcrowded as more and more visitors from distant lands came over to join in the fun. Shops and inns were packed with revelers, merchants walked up and down the aisles hawking their products to foreigners, and street urchins ran to and fro, eager to stick their hands in open pockets and loose coinpurses.

Beautiful maiden dancers, temple prostitutes, street whores and swordswallowers lined the pedestals and towering statues. From these people, I kept the child clear away from. There was no need to give her any ideas at such a young age.

"Where are we going, Papa?" Riven asks, squealing with delight as I hoist her high up onto my shoulders.

"The theater, my dear girl." I answered, "We're going to see the _Tragedy of Queen Madrigal._ I know how much you love reading that book, I thought it would be nice for you to see it in action." I caught Leliana's gaze and noticed a serious look about it, then realized it was time. When we got to the threshold of the theater, I let Riven down and bade the rogue farewell, knowing she must get to work.

"Be careful out there."

She nods once and disappears into the crowd, leaving me and Riven to watch the play alone. It wasn't until after the prologue of the play the child noticed Leliana's absence. "Papa, where did Leliana go?"

My answer was quick, not that far from the truth. "She went out to hunt some bad people. Remember, Leliana's not here just for the sights, she's here to get her job done."

"What does she do for a living anyway?" Riven asked, biting down on the sugar flecked snack I bought her.

"Something like what I do." I replied vaguely, satisfying the child's curiosity by a small margin. We watched the play without having to tread on the subject for a while, laughing and groaning with the audience with every accomplished scene. My day brightens, a tiny flicker of happiness warms my cursed soul. Gradually, I grew bored with the play, opting to pass the time by watching the crowd around us.

The nobles, high lords and ladies of the province, sat upon their high seats on the left. Most of them I knew to be reaver lords and pirate captains, grown rich from the gold of dead merchants and plundered kingdoms. There was no company I detested more than the slavers sitting naught but a few feet from where the commoners were seated, silver chains upon their necks boasting of their station for all who laid eyes on.

I was content with ignoring them altogether, until one of them I caught staring at the child in my care.

He was a tall, handsome dark-skinned man with neatly cropped hair that was flipped over his forehead. His arms were bared to the cool breeze of the Selenian autumn air, exposing the snake tattoos wrapping themselves all over well-toned muscle. He carried a saber, sheathed within a scabbard of intricately carved bronze, depicting a naked woman with outspread wings.

His predatory gaze was affixed on Riven, probably because she'd be one of the first children sporting hair as white as the snow of the Frostback Mountains. Whatever the reason, his gaze was uncalled for, and earned my ire. I glared at him with all the fires of hell, reminding him that the child was not alone. He meets my gaze and was taken aback, but then covered his initial surprise with a charming smile. With a polite nod, he turns his gaze out back into the play as the _Tragedy of Queen Madrigal_ ended with the death of the queen at the hands of the Antivan Crows, her lover mourning over her pierced corpse and swearing vengeance upon the guild of assassins. The scene was met with a quiet applause that soon grew to a deafening roar as the audience wept for the fate of one of their greatest leaders.

The minute the play ended, I led my charge out of the theatre and into the streets of Seleny, hand firmly latched on her wrist to keep her close.

"That was sad." Riven sniffed, "Why did she have to die?"

I ignored the child's babbling, watching every corner and aisle for anything or anyone suspicious. The inn where we were supposed to stay was a little over six houses away from the theatre, and with the crowded streets of the city at the hour of the festival it was quite a task covering the distance. Weaving in and out of bodies while maintaining a good grip on Riven was difficult, especially with my increasing paranoia.

"Papa? What's going on?" Riven asked, soon complaining about the tight grasp upon her wrist. "Ow! You're hurting my hand!"

I stopped behind a vacant stall and knelt before her, "Riven, I want you to understand that there are bad men in the city, and they're after you. We're going back to the inn where you'll be safe. Now come, I've got to get you out of here." Telling her about the problem instead of keeping her in the dark proved to be the right decision, and we reached Leliana's room without any incident.

The first thing I did was bar the door and windows, then got my weapons out of the bags. I set my sword against the endtable, then sat myself down to think. The bed groans as Riven crawled up to me. She sat close and leans her head on my arm, taking my calloused hand in her own, then began to sing a mellow tune.

I reach around the child's shoulders and rub her arm reassuringly, "Be calm, little one. I'm not letting any of those bad men get to you."

Riven stares at the little flame burning upon the candle-wick, "Papa, why did Queen Madrigal have to die? She was such a good person."

That might not be exactly true, history tends to romanticize its characters whenever it suits the occasion. "It's the way of the world, Riven. All that is good and just is doomed to be swallowed up or smothered by the wicked and the degenerate."

The child could not understand, naivete reigns in the mind of the young. "But why?"

I sighed, scratching my forehead with my thumb. "The hearts of men are easily twisted by greed, lust or violence. Look back to the play, what did you see regarding Madrigal and the evil lords plotting against her? Did she not bring prosperity to Antiva and all the cities under its rule? Was she not a woman of the people much like Andraste herself? Think of the Prophetess, did she not bring freedom to the slaves- saved all of mankind against the Magisters of Tevinter?"

Riven blinks in silence.

"They were rewarded with betrayal. It is a cog upon which Life turns, as eternal as Orouboros. It's time you know how ugly the world really is, that way you won't feel crushed as tragedies soon will come your way." I look out into the darkness of the night, "Like this. Evil will always be at your heels, it will take many forms, but know for certain that it will always be there."

"Is that why you've been training me in bladework all this time?"

"Yes, precisely." I said with a nod, "Sometimes you cannot outrun your pursuers, sometimes you have to make a stand."

 **}!{**


	34. The Eternal Cabal

**}!{**

I heard them coming. They weren't so subtle about it.

The owner of the house we were staying in, Leliana's trusted contact, hotly protested the sudden and unwelcome entry of the group of thugs. His protests were cut short, however, ending with a soft _thud_ of an axe hitting flesh and a loud cry of pain before a body falls to the floor. Steps race up the wooden staircase, heading for our room.

Riven hears it too. She cowers behind my legs as I rose up and drew my sword.

They've come for her, and so they shall taste their own blood. I look down at the trembling lass and instruct her to get under the bed, "Take this dagger and stay quiet. If they get to me, run for the window and leap onto the hay cart outside just like we planned. Keep away from the streets, I will find you when it's over."

"But Papa-

"Child." I said softly, referring to the Curse. "Don't worry about me. You know Papa's not like other men, don't you?"

The child takes pause, "Yes Papa."

"Then go." I said, caressing her cheek. "I love you, Riven."

With all that said and done, I closed the door behind me and entered the hall, readying myself for the poor sods who dared enter my sanctuary. I see the first, a large man endowed with a body the size of a well-fed ox and brandishing a bloody double-bladed axe. The fool charges in like the maddened bull that he was and was met with sharp geisteel across the stomach when he hefted his weapon high above his head. The soft hiss of metal slitting across flesh reaches my ears, followed by a loud curse as the man doubles over. His guts spill all over the wooden floor, his blood follows, and soon did he.

Next on the menu was the swordsmen, six of the thugs sent to back up the burly ravager. They look stunned at the quick end of their leader, but stood their ground like faithful hounds, daring not to leave this ill-fated mission empty handed. They fear their master more than my blade, which was fine by me. I send a message to the lowlife living in Antiva- not all victims are worth pursuing. They chose poorly, and so they shall pay the price.

The corridor was narrow, allowing two men to come at me at a time. I used this to my advantage and waited for them to strike first, watching with grim amusement as they slipped in the blood pooling forth from the downed axeman.

With a casual flick of my wrist, I sent a bolt of lightning to surge across the hall. It connects, driving the men to their knees in agony. I was careful not to use the full power of my spells, since I didn't want to bring the full attention of the city down on us. It would do me or Riven no good if I end up blowing half of Seleny up in my attempt to thwart the plans of these people.

They are slavers, mortal men unworthy of those deaths. A quick end by my blade should be enough.

I killed them swiftly and unceremoniously, heading downstairs to secure the house in case there were more to face.

The living room was in shambles. Tables and chairs were flung against the walls and shattered to pieces. The bodies of the innkeeper and his manservants were strewn across the floor, their blood seeping into the cracks of the wooden planks below. I walk across the corpses, fed on the life-forces leaking from the ruined vessels, then lifted my gaze to the open door.

He's here.

The handsome, dark-skinned rogue with the snake tattoos. He entered the inn with his sword drawn and that charming smile upon his face. He didn't say anything when I raised my blade against him, but bit into his own wrist to let the blood flow. I only realized who I was dealing with only after I felt the demons' grasp on me. I could not see them, but I could feel their grip on my arms and legs. More of them grab onto me as I stubbornly drag myself across the room.

A few inches more, just a few damned inches more, and I would've gutted the man where he stood.

His sword slashed across my chest three times, then opens my throat. I gurgle noisily as I dropped to my knees, still restrained by the bloodmage's demon friends, unable to fight back as the life leaves my body. I fall to the bloodied floor beside the innkeeper, eyes staring straight, watching the rogue ascend the stairs leading into the room where Riven stayed. Later, her screams reached me, she fails to use the dagger. Riven pleads for the man to let her go.

The last beats of my heart grow frantic as I swallowed the reality of my situation. Riven will be taken, that much was certain.

"Papa! Papa! Help me!"

I will find her, that too is certain. I will get my little girl back, even if I have to tear Seleny down to its foundations!

* * *

I awake with a building roar of pure, undiluted fury. I rose up from the floor on unsteady legs, knocking back Leliana and stumbling over to the nearby table. "I'm gonna fucking kill that bloody whoreson!" My ruined chest heaves, I touch my own bloodstains to gain at least some of my lost souls back, then restoring my pale flesh to a healthy pink. With trembling hands I reach for the estus flask, I drink deeply from its syrupy contents and took a moment to regain my composure.

It is early morning now, and a crowd had gathered outside. Leliana remains silent at my enraged ramblings, daring to comfort me by laying a tender hand on my shoulder. I shrug off her reassuring touch and raced upstairs, donning the leather cuirass and armguards, arming myself well before returning downstairs to begin my hunt for the kidnappers. "Come!" I growled at my lover, "We are only a few hours behind, but we can catch up if we hurry." My words were few, but spoke volumes about what was on my mind.

Leliana gets the hint, thankfully, and makes herself useful. "We will find her, Langerd. If it's any comfort, she will be kept alive. Slavers prefer their...um...merchandise- please pardon the term- intact."

I take note of her hesitance to broach the subject, "I know."

If she was taken at great expense, the bloodmage slaver wouldn't risk plying his trade locally. He will have to bring her to the coast to sell her through proper channels. The thought of it pains me, but I have to consider all the possibilities.

"Langerd, before we go any further, would you mind telling me what you saw the night Riven was taken?" Leliana asks.

This was a good point, the rogue earns my admiration for being thorough. "The memories are still fresh." I describe to her everything about the men who attacked the inn, especially that dark-skinned rogue. I left no detail out, "So what do you think of this?"

"You say he was a bloodmage? It's a curious thing, I don't believe it involves slavery." Leliana muses.

"What do you mean?" I frowned, "Of course it involves slavery! Why wouldn't it?"

"Consider this for a second, a slaver won't go through all that trouble risking a kidnapping in Seleny for what may seem as a mere child- unless he deems her valuable beyond as such." Leliana pauses, her brow furrowing in concern. "A bloodmage... this is bigger than it looks." The rogue shares her thoughts, "Last night in my investigations, I finally tracked down that maleficar coven I spoke to you about. I fear these circumstances to be connected."

"Tell me about this coven."

"They call themselves the Eternal Cabal, a reclusive cult responsible for many atrocities throughout Thedas. Their activities involve court assassinations, kidnappings, various political manipulations and terrorism. What I've found here in Seleny is but a fragment of the whole network. This isn't the first time they've kidnapped someone with unchecked magical potential. They must've taken Riven because they've recognized, somehow, her gifts as Andraste's descendant."

I blinked thrice, slowly digesting this revelation.

"Langerd." Leliana squeezed my hand, "I'm so sorry for dragging you into this."

I shook my head, "There's no way you could've known. Whatever faults are here, they lie with me. I brought Riven here, so I am responsible for what happens to her. Whatever leads you have we must pursue it. Where must we go next?"

"I've come with a task force from the Templar Order. Those we have captured from the coven found here have been arrested and kept under guard. We can start questioning them about that man you've encountered."

"Then we have no time to lose." I said with a nod, following Leliana out of the living quarters and into the streets of the city. We weaved out of the crowds dancing in the parade until we reached the local Chantry Cathedral. The city of Seleny was home to one of the most ancient religious structures Thedas has ever known, boasting a structure meticulously and painstakingly crafted to last for eternity. I, of course, know better than anyone that nothing can ever last that long. The Cathedral of Saint Lunala, wise and holy queen of Antiva, was a palace of gleaming marble and hard stone. It sported two garrisons filled with well equipped Templars with armor polished to gleam like washed glass. Fervent prayers and quiet hymns sang through the air from the cloisters, boots marched noisily in contrast to as the ever-vigilant soldiery of the Chantry patrolled the perimeter.

I wondered at the buss and the overall lively nature of the environment for a moment, then realized what it was all about. The threat of the Cabal was something to be taken seriously, so much so that it drew the attention of the Order of the Seekers of Truth itself! I've read books on it, or rather was read to by Riven. They were the secret police-force of the Chantry, sanctioned by the Divine in Val Royeaux to safeguard the Templar Order from threats within and without.

We were allowed entry when the guards recognized Leliana, approaching a man clad in heavy onyx armor with the symbol of the ever-watchful eye of the Seeker Order etched upon his breastplate. He carried a wide, silver-lined broadsword upon his back that was etched with ancient gothic words that I cannot place. His hair was white with the years of his life, eyes weary with the burdens of his past and worries of the future, and yet bore a strange hint of serenity that I only saw in the eyes of those who yearn for death.

"Lord Seeker Aldren!" Leliana greeted with a small bow.

"Leliana, you've returned." He grasps her forearm in response, "Was there something I've missed in your report?" His eyes turn towards me, "And who is this?"

"This is Langerd. He is the Ashen Warlock who aided the Hero of Ferelden in the battle against the Archdemon." Leliana introduced. "He's here to help us in our quest to deal with the Cabal threat."

"They've taken my daughter." I growled, clarifying my intentions. "I'm not going to just 'deal' with them. I'm going to kill them all."

Leliana throws me a disapproving look for speaking out of turn, but the Lord Seeker's response was the one I took note of. He was smiling, perhaps sensing my willingness to soil my hands, to do whatever it takes to get my girl back- and I am truly willing if that's what is required of me. "You have my sympathies, serrah. What can I do for you?"

I took the lead from there, "With your permission, I would like to question the bloodmages you have here."

"Your timing could not have been better." The Lord Seeker dismisses his subordinate, "I've just received the reports that our interrogations have turned up fruitless. Leliana, would you care to lend a hand?" At her nod of affirmation, he turns to me. "Serrah, you may assist if you wish it."

"Oh yes." I gritted my teeth, "It will be my pleasure."

 **}!{**


	35. The Weyrs

**}!{**

"The man with the snake tattoos. Who is he?"

Bones strain as my hands crush her fingers together. The bloodmage groans, then screams as they finally snap. She glares at me with tear-stained eyes and roars in agony. Blood bursts free from split flesh, the resulting cries echo through the small cell we were in and possibly even into the halls outside.

"Who?!" I grab her by the chin, scalding the skin as I conjured a small ball of flame across the surface of my palm. Pain is an opener, even those deemed unbreakable will soon collapse under its influence. I know this to be true, I witnessed it firsthand. I've been interrogating the six mages of the Eternal Cabal for near six hours straight, not ever stopping until I've squeezed out what I wanted from them. There is no skill needed in extracting information, no finesse. All one needed was the right amount of suffering, and the secrets shall start flowing.

And I'm good at what I do. "The suffering will not end, I promise you that." I narrowed my gaze at the woman's screams, "It only ends with your death. Speak now and let it be swift."

"His name is Simogne!" She breaks after the seventh hour. "He rides for The Weyrs!"

"Why?!" I growled.

"The child holds the power of the Maker, she is the key to opening the Veil between worlds!" The bloodmage cried, "We all saw it! The worlds that hold an unending sea of undead! Simogne will take the Crown of Thorns and bring them to the Realm of Thedas!" This was no mere babbling of a pain-wracked woman, everything she spoke were nothing to scoff at. The Eternal Cabal had involved themselves with Nahr Alma.

"So the tale involves an aspiring mage, hoping to seize the glories promised by the Dark One." I mused.

"You know of him then?" The bloodmage stares with maddened eyes, "You know of the demon who spoke?"

"Yes. And whatever he promised, you shouldn't have listened." I replied, snapping the woman's neck with a deft twist of my hand. I called for the guard to open the door, then stepped out. I washed my hands and face in a basin of cold water, reporting all my findings to the Orlesian bard. "The man's name is Simogne, his acolytes say he's heading for The Weyr desert. I'd wager you'd find another Cabal cell working in that region."

"We ride immediately then?" Leliana inquired inanely.

"What do you think?" I retorted.

"Impressive work." Lord Seeker Aldren commented, "I've taken the liberty of preparing the horses for you. You ride with us, serrah."

"Thank you, Lord Seeker." Leliana speaks for me to avoid any arguments. She knew I hated working in groups, especially since I deemed mortal men a burden that will slow me down. "Langerd, shall we?"

* * *

We rode hard for the wastes of Rivain, relying on the information squeezed out of the captured bloodmages and the directions of the locals when questioned about Simogne's whereabouts. The rogue and his coterie of mercenaries had passed three villages on their way to the grand canyons dotting the Weyrs. Like the dune marks where a great serpent had slithered through, the canyons winded in strange and intricate patterns where the ancient rivers had dried up.

Trackers made use of their skills and pointed out a more accurate heading for the company. We pitched camp only after darkness had settled over the land. I was restless, to say the least, the whole time the Templars sat around the campfire and traded stories. I cared little for the exchange, my only thoughts filled with images of the child I've lost.

She will return to me, soon. If that bastard harmed her in any way, I will make sure his death is slow and painful.

"How are you holding up?" Leliana spoke softly to me. Her approach was cautious, curiously.

"As one can only be when a life hangs in the balance." I looked up at her. "And you? I sense fear in your voice, hesitance in my presence since we left Seleny. Care to explain why?"

There was a pregnant pause before the rogue finds the courage to answer. She refuses to look at me as she did so, "Being with you all this time, I hoped to learn everything about you. I loved every moment I spent unveiling each mystery, unraveling each layer down to its core. But then I found this...part of you that I just can't..." Leliana sighs, "This cruelty...tell me I'm mistaken. How you didn't even blink when you tortured those mages, when you rent their flesh and tore their fingers. This isn't my Langerd."

I frowned, "Cruelty, Leliana? They are my enemies, they don't deserve mercy. One who has harmed one of mine shall not go unpunished, them and all involved in the act. It isn't any different from those I face in the battlefield."

"On that, I will have to disagree." She dared to meet my gaze, "Perhaps in this instance your actions are excusable, but what shame is there to have in showing restraint?"

"Your point, woman?" I said, annoyed with this pointless prattle. We stared at each other for a full minute in silence. She loses her momentum in the exchange, Leliana never recovers, so I continued for her. "You wish to know if this cruelty is a part of me? Yes, it is. Will I change it? Never. To anyone who harms Riven, death is only their final respite. They will know pain before the end."

I turn about and faced the moonless sky, scoffing at her hypocrisy. "The Divine's work, hah! They hide their inner cruelty beneath a white cloak of holiness, I merely choose to be forthcoming with my own. You cannot stomach the suffering of your enemies? You're in the wrong kind of business."

Leliana was quiet after that, and will undoubtedly continue to be in the days to come. She departs with a final word, "They don't have to suffer. If they are to die, make their deaths swift."

"They're already dead." I muttered, "They just don't know it yet."

I continued to stand watch even after they have all gone to bed. The restlessness refused to leave me, and so at the very least I put it to good use. The minutes turned to hours, I spent them all patrolling the small circle around the camp, thoughts growing frantic as I imagined all the many things that could happen to my little girl. It was worse than torture. Pain I can handle, but not this.

Then, like a stroke of fate unseen and unprecedented, I heard the shrill cry of my daughter in the distance. It echoes across the ravine, tearing the peaks of the canyons free and toppling those earthen towers over. The rocks tumbling down with the sudden landslide awaken the Templar company, and they roused themselves quickly from their slumber.

"Maker's breath, what's happening?" Lord Seeker Aldren inquired.

"Riven shows the way!" I was already upon my horse, kicking it to a full gallop towards the origin of the scream.

"Langerd, wait!" Leliana's voice was drowned out by the clopping of hooves, and I soon disappeared into the winding paths of the canyon. I couldn't wait for them, I had to seize this chance while it yet presents itself. It was still dark out, but I didn't care. I rode hard for my goal, not even caring for my poor mount as the stallion huffed and complained.

Soon, I pulled on the reins to slow him down once I reached the place. The horse's hooves skid to a loud stop over the cliff, and I beheld the work of my little girl.

The trees in the valley have been uprooted or torn apart by her scream, boulders and jagged cliffs cracked down to their foundations, and the bodies of her captors lay mangled and broken at her feet. She had been kept in a cage, its bars rent and forced open by the force of her outburst. The child sat in the middle of the cage, holding her knees up to her face as she rocked back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably.

I dismounted and approached the cage cautiously, whispering her name as softly as I could. "Riven. Riven? It's Papa." At my voice, she throws her arms around my neck and buries her face in my chest. "That's right, I've got you."

"They killed you, Papa!" She cried, "But I knew you'd come back! I told them you would!"

"And they didn't believe you." I said, glaring at the acolytes that managed to survive the aftermath. I lifted Riven up and kept her safe within my arm, the free one dispatching the insufferable curs with a gout of flame there and a bolt of lighting here. The Templars caught up to me only when I killed the last one, Simogne the Rogue was not among them, much to my displeasure.

"Spread out! Search the valley!" Aldren commanded, "I want that man at my feet, dead or alive!" I took note of his amazement at the destruction around him, his eyes taking in every detail until they fall upon Riven. That look on his face prompted me to take a defensive stance, and I soon found my hand reaching for my sword, especially with what came out of the Lord Seeker's mouth. "You never told me your daughter was a mage."

All eyes turned to me upon the utterance of that name. The Templars ceased their search for the escaped rogue and surrounded me. Leliana sees this, and the look she gave me was a look of alarm. She knew, as much as I did, that if the Lord Seeker demanded- and I knew as much that he most certainly would- that Riven come with him to the Circle of Magi...things would get ugly pretty quickly.

"Give us the girl, serrah." Aldren kindly, but firmly declared.

"You will not touch her." I narrowed my eyes, each word weighed heavily on emphasis.

Swords hiss as they were drawn from their sheaths. The Templars readied their shields and stood strong, poised to strike the moment their commander gave the order. Aldren remained adamant, "Lower your weapon, we don't have to be enemies this night. Give us the girl, she will be safe in the Circle, you have my word."

"Don't do it, you fucking idiot." I growled menacingly, the sentence spoken more as a personal thought than an actual warning.

Leliana tries to keep a fight from breaking out, "Wait! Everyone, please! I can explain this!" She failed.

"Riven, get behind me!" I yelled, parrying a Templar's strike and severing his arm with one deft move of my wrist. He screams in pain and collapses onto the dust. His comrades move in all at once, an opportunity for me to deliver a shockwave from the Soul Furnace presents itself, and I use it. The Templars were knocked off their feet, save for their commander as he plants his sword firmly on the ground which absorbs the chaos energies.

He recovers quickly, raising his weapon against me as another warning. "Please, don't make me kill you in front of your daughter." To test the waters, I cast a bolt of lightning against the Lord Seeker. He deflects the spell with a casual flick of his enchanted weapon. He looks at me sadly and shakes his head, "So be it."

I met the Seeker's charge head on, geisteel meeting unearthly metal in a shrill song that complimented our deadly dance. For a man of his age, Aldren moved gracefuly, agilely dodging and parrying my strikes wherever I swung, whereas every strike he made on me struck true! I was resilient, and I took these blows well. For what little I hit, I made sure it hurt.

Aldren gasps as my sword cleaves through his armor and wounds his side. He recoils, his Templars move in to intercept, eager to defend their commander from the stubborn interloper that I was. They fared worse than he did.

I decapitated one lad and disemboweled the other. Their wargear was not enchanted, and so they suffered great pain from the infernal spells I cast upon them. Aldren watches in horror as the Templars cooked in their own armor, reduced to melted awkwardly posed statuettes affixed permanently upon the face of the earth. He turned on me with anger, "You heartless bastard!"

"You could've avoided this, Lord Seeker." I pointed out. "You just had to act the Chantry's dog and destroy our little alliance. Tell me, how's that working out for you?"

"Damn you!" Aldren roared, smiting me with some sort of holy spell that momentarily blinded me, allowing him to drive his sword through my belly and out my back!

I snarled at the resulting pain lancing up my spine and middle. For a moment we just stood there, staring at each other with all the fires of hell burning in our eyes. Then, I grabbed onto the hilt of the Lord Seeker's blade. I was aware of Leliana's pleadings in the background. She begged for me to stop, and I ignored her. Slowly, I dragged myself forward until I was inches away from his face, then I drove my sword through the Seeker's chest, returning the favor.

Aldren's mouth hung open in disbelief, "Wh...wha-

Unceremoniously, I shove the dying man off of me, plucking his sword free from my body before driving it down on his face through the eye for good measure, killing him instantly. Leliana's face grew white, a pained expression comes across it as she slowly digests what had happened this night. "No. No, Maker. No." She sank to her knees and heaved, but the tears refused to come.

I rolled my eyes and fished for the Estus Flask, taking a deep breath before I gulped down a mouthful of its contents.

 **}!{**


	36. Training in the Woods

**}!{**

"You didn't have to kill them."

"And what would you have me do then?" I answered, trying my best to keep my tone low and even. "Let them take Riven? Rely on the hollow promises of your friend the Lord Seeker? You know as well as I that the Circle of Magi is a death sentence! When they see the power Riven holds they will chain her, or worse- turn her Tranquil! How could you even entertain the thought?!"

"They were good men." Leliana knelt before the corpses, "If you had just let me speak to them...I could've convinced him."

"Convince him of what?" I scoffed, "The moment you reveal Riven's true heritage you will be branded a heretic. If that was your plan, then you're a bigger fool than I imagined."

"Don't presume to know Aldren, he would've listened!" Leliana defended hotly.

"You're right." I turned heel and picked up my daughter from the dirt, brushing her little dress clear of the soil. "I don't know him. Therefore, I will never entrust the fate of my girl in his hands. He damned himself and his men when he drew his sword." I stood still for a moment, gazing down at the Divine's lackey. "I've made my decision and defended my cause. What happens now is up to you."

She will have to report everything to her superiors, which would mean that it would no longer be safe for me and Riven to stay in Kirkwall. But she has the choice to look the other way, as did Aldren before he chose poorly. I meant what I said concerning him. I didn't know the man, and so I will never place my fate or Riven's in his hands. But I knew Leliana, whatever she will decide on the matter I won't think any less of her.

"Papa?" Riven asked quietly as I returned to the camp and saddled the horse for the long journey back to the City of Chains, "Where is Leliana going?"

I turned around to see the rogue already on her way East, Orlais' general direction. "She's got a job to do, and so do I. Come, little one, let's go home."

* * *

After reclaiming what was left of our belongings in Seleny, Riven and I set out for Kirkwall without Leliana. The woman took our exchange that night very personally, and I'm not too optimistic that I'll be seeing her again any time soon. No matter, time will heal those wounds, and I'm not in a hurry to bridge the gap between us.

On the way, I found myself wondering again if I made the right decision bringing Riven to Seleny in the first place. Bonding with the child and giving her a chance to see the world outweighed the potential risks. Looking back at what happened, all that trouble caused...I began to blame myself for everything she suffered.

Then, I stopped. The fault lies not with me, but with that rogue who kidnapped her. Hunting him down was not my priority anymore. I had to see to Riven, she needs me more than my desire for vengeance. But if it so happens that our paths cross again- and I have no doubt that's likely to happen- I will bury my fist in his chest and tear out his fucking heart!

"Papa." Riven approached me on the sixth day of our slow journey back to Kirkwall, while we had stopped on the roadside inn set in the middle of the Imperial Crossroad. "Will you teach me again how to use a sword?"

I was in the middle of honing the blades in my possession, pausing to consider this odd proposition. "Why?" Of all the things I child could ask for prior to some traumatic event, this came as a surprise. "Do you plan on stabbing someone?"

I noticed something change in Riven's behavior, it started since that night. I could no longer ignore it. Her timidness, which was born out of her natural childlike nature, was gone. She takes a deep breath and explains herself, "I don't want anyone to take me as easy as that man did ever again. I want to learn everything you know about fighting, and how to use my powers."

I tilted my head to the side and regarded her curiously. I knew this conversation was going to happen sooner or later, but not in this fashion. Here, it was Riven asking me, not the other way around. I rose up and wrapped the weapons in a blanket, "If we are to do this, I must warn you that you will have to train harder. No more hesitations on your part."

Her face grows hard with determination, "I'm ready."

"Then come." I motion for her to follow, "We'll do this in the woods. It's not wise to make a show of your skill to the world, not yet."

* * *

I marked the trail we left as we progressed deeper into the forest. We didn't stop until we reached a clearing wide enough for the child's lessons. Riven had torn off her cotton dress, the yellow one which Bethany had sown for her, and donned hard leather trousers that she'd purchased in the market with her allowance. The shirt she wore was for a boy's attire, but I saw the practicality of her gear. She'd been planning on this for quite some time.

I'll hold back as much as necessity demands, but Riven must grow strong, I can see that now. It is good she has an eager mind, but I must see how far that conviction goes.

"What are you doing?" I inquired, watching her search the bushes for something.

"Looking for sticks." She answered bringing out two branches twice the size of her arm, "Y'know, for practice swords."

I shook my head and unwrapped the blades, laying it out on the grass. "No. We're going to use the real ones, as we've always done." I crossed my arms and stepped back, "Choose your weapon."

Riven kneels and brushes her fingers across the swords, daggers and waraxes. "Why should I be so choosy?"

"A warrior can be adaptable in combat and may use all manner of tools to achieve victory, but always comes for what is most familiar." I unsheathed my sword, holding it up to let the geisteel edge play with the sun's light. It was sharpened, well and freshly oiled, ready to do some damage. "Take your time, get a feel of the weight of each weapon. But you will only settle for the one."

She takes the sword and tests its weight. For a while, she seemed to like the feel of it, but ultimately rejects it.

She goes for the daggers, but then decided they were too light and too small. Speed was not one of her strong suits, I've got to work on that for her sake.

Then, she reaches for the axe. The thing weighed at least one third of the girl's own, but she managed to lift it just the same, albeit unsteadily. "I like this one."

I sighed inwardly. I really hoped she wouldn't go for that one. Training a little girl with a weapon that could easily tip her over could prove difficult. Nevertheless, this is where my path leads, and so I must stick to it. "Good. First lesson; a proper stance. An axe is heavier than a maul or sword, but the heft ensures that one strike is enough to finish a man- if you can land a proper hit the first time." I showed her how far her feet must spread to accommodate for the axe's cumbersome load. She doesn't complain, follows each and every instruction, and when the first strike was drawn- she delivers with astounding execution!

The head falls quickly as Riven rotates her shoulders, allowing the weight of the axe to be distributed around her back and over her arms, striking my shield with a blow strong enough to cleave through a man's unprotected chest.

"Good." Not bad for a beginner. "Again."

Riven withdraws and regains her stance quickly, repeating the act from a different angle. She strikes from above, from below, always true and never once falters. "The timing!" I growled out, parrying her blows in between commands. I taught her the lessons I've learned in the cursed lands of Drangleic. "Watch your opponent's movements! Analyze their fight patterns! Save your strength for their attacks! Dodge! Don't stay in one place! Move!"

After a full hour of the lessons, I struck a blow that knocked the breath out of the child and laid her low. She collapsed and grabbed onto the wound on her shoulder, eyes wide as the crippling pain gripped her. I had dealt that blow on purpose, no matter how much it pained me to do so. I believed I would do her no favors if I did not, for there was one of great import that I must drive home. Riven stared at me in disbelief, but I surmounted the inner agony that came with this act.

I raised the edge of my blade against her throat and spoke quietly, "Your enemies will show no mercy, show no pity. One day they will lay you low as I've done, but they will kill you. What will you do then? What will you do now?"

Riven casts as quick healing spell on her injury, opens her mouth and screams. This time, the scream was a more controlled burst, born out of anger in place of fear. I was knocked right off my feet and slammed against a nearby towering oak tree, which then shatters on impact. The bark groans as every fiber snaps, and the great tree falls over. I picked myself up and turned my gaze out, watching calmly as Riven charges like a mad bull, axe raised to strike.

The axehead gleams as the sun's light touches its edge, right before it whistles through the air as it was brought down upon my chest.

I heard the soft _thunk_ as the blade tears through the leather cuirass and buries itself into my flesh. I could feel the cold steel touching my frantically beating heart. I could taste the blood flooding my throat and backing up my mouth and nose. But I felt most was not pain, nor betrayal...

No, I felt pride.

"Papa?" The anger leaves the girl's eyes, "Papa!" She frantically pulls the axe out, planting her foot on my chest to fully extract the embedded weapon. The exit wound spurts a torrent of bright red onto the forest floor, adding to the urgency of the situation. "No no no no no no!" Riven lays her hands on my wound and proceeds to cast a healing spell. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

I stopped her by clamping down a firm hand on hers, "No!" I glared at her, "Lesson's not over yet." I was dying, and I only had a few moments left to make this one count. "Close your heart to your enemy's suffering! Mercy in life, it is granted only to the strong and the honorable! To the men like that man who took you, their's is only death!"

The tears flow from the child's eyes, she sobs as I grip her shoulders gently. "Do you understand?" She bobs her head and dries her tears.

"Good." I smiled, satisfied that I've made progress. "We'll continue this when I return."

Then, I closed my eyes and died.

 **}!{**


	37. My Song, My Soul

**I just wanna say thank you to all those who kept supporting this fic in spite of the hard bumps here and there. Personally, I thought the Knight of Heide was getting pretty stale by now, but your reviews tell a different story. Now, as a symbol of my gratitude, here's an early update- please enjoy :)**

 **}!{**

"Papa? Are you still there?"

I groaned, slowly shaking off the mild vertigo gripping my head from resurrection. I got up from the forest floor that acted as my grave for the time I spent dead.

"Oh thank the Maker, I thought you'd stay that way forever!"

"How long was I gone?" I asked, not bothering to guess it myself when I looked at the state of my skin.

"About a day and a half." Riven answered, "I had to cook my own meals close to where you lay. I didn't want the animals to get to you." The fires of her little campfire still burned below the spit where she roasted a piglet she had slain from a hunt. Resourceful little girl, she's outgrown the princess

"That's thoughtful of you." I said gratefully. "I hope you've put the time to good use, though. I meant what I said that we'll continue training right after I come back. Well, I'm back. Pick up your weapon and take position."

Riven's expression was one of abject horror, "What?! B-But, Papa! I don't want to do this anymore!"

I arched my brow, "I don't think I heard you right. What happened to your determination when you asked me to train you? Why get cold feet all of a sudden? Hm? Explain yourself, girl."

"I killed you!" She shouted, wringing her hands nervously. There was a fresh scar where the wound had closed on her left shoulder, she touches it gingerly. "And...and you hurt me."

I had to explain it, otherwise the child will grow to resent me. I knelt before her and looked her in the eye, "Riven. I don't do this because I like it. I hit you because it was necessary."

"How was it necessary to cut me?!" Riven wails.

"Think back and see reason." I said firmly, "Did you not learn to use your spells when your life hung in the balance? I sought to teach you to use all that you had in battle. I succeeded." I dared to touch her shoulder, "You succeeded, and bested me."

Riven slowly digests the essence of my lessons, and nods. "I...I see."

"Now, about your guilt in killing me." I said, moving on to another issue. "Let it go. I am not a mortal man that you'd have to worry about hurting."

"But I don't like doing that to you, Papa." Riven says, her words moving my heart. "I love you. I might've been angry for a bit back there, but to hurt those closest to me..."

"I know, and your heart is good, my daughter." I replied. "You remain uncorrupted by this world, but you must grow strong. Understand? There is no other way for me to teach you what must be done. You've seen firsthand many times what I have spoken of. This world is full of monsters, many of which you will face in the long run. I'm just making sure you are ready for anything that crosses your path."

"But what about this magic I carry?" Riven gives voice to one of her biggest doubts.

You hold a power unlike any other, but you will never be like them. No, you will surpass all others, even me."

"Is this all to prepare me for the Endwar? So that I will save the world from the demons?"

"Yes." I chose to be frank with her, "I can only show you the path to take, but that will be your choice to make."

"My choice?"

"Mhm." I rumbled, "What good will it do if you allow others to force a destiny upon you?" I stood up and picked my fallen weapon from the brush, "Now, shall we continue where we left off?"

Riven nods slowly, hesitation still clinging to her decision. "Alright. What's the next step in our lesson, Papa?"

"We will find out what other magical abilities you might have." I said, "Then, we get creative. As I've said, a warrior must be adaptable. And since you must become better than the rest, I will have you exploit every asset at your disposal." I led her into the middle of the clearing and instructed her accordingly, "Take form! Begin!"

* * *

The day wears on. Riven's training was grueling, to say the least. But I gained the satisfaction of seeing that she does not complain nor falter as before. There is the mild hesitation on her part when raising her hand against her own father, but that was about the only thing I have against her. Before night falls, I learn many things about the child's arcane potential.

Aside from her use of the Sundercry, a name that she came up with herself and stuck, Riven was capable of manipulating fire. It was a primitive form of pyromancy, like many of the mages of this world. Fleeting, barely a low flame at best, another thing that needed strong instruction for certain. She was also capable of ice magic, although at this early stage she can only manage to set a chill in the air and not much else. Another was a unique form of magic, akin to telekinesis, that she manages to use to manipulate her own weight and the objects in her hands- namely the heavy battleaxe she carries.

Of these revelations, I thought of the many things my little girl could become. She will not be of a singular destiny. She could become a battlemage, a warrior with near limitless strength. I've heard tales of Andraste's gifts when she was yet of the mortal realms. Though cursed with a frail form, she was unmatched in wit and finesse. Riven can be so much better than her, and I felt honored to take part in molding her to that end. The Maker does not deserve her dedication, but it's none of my business to act as judge. I'm willing to do my job as set by the Prophetess, nothing more.

"Papa, I'm hungry." Riven said just as the creatures of the night sang their song at twilight's arrival. "Let's go back to the inn. Please?"

I nodded, "Yes, I believe we've trained enough for today. Just let me pack up, and we will be on our way."

We returned to the trail, following the path back that I set with markers. The inn was packed with many travelers, all hailing from the province of Seleny as they were just about returning home from the Queen's festivities. There were revelers and drunkards singing and swigging mugs of ale, while weary adventurers and mercenaries like myself were led upstairs and outside for the whores to ply their trade. I kept Riven clear from them and brought her to the table in the far corner, ordering two bowls of porridge and a slab of venison that I had the cook dice up and serve from the deer I killed earlier. Riven wanted some sugar-flecked loaves for dessert, so I spoiled the lass and bought them.

We ate in silence, listening to the terrible songs the revelers sang as they downed their mead.

"You there!" I mirthful voice called to me.

I glared at the woman whom the voice belonged to. She was a bard, from the way she dressed. That loud, red and frayed toussles, and the feathered cap. A vision of Leliana crosses my mind, until I laid my eyes on the bard's golden locks. The vision fades, and I grow sad. "Serrah! Would you like to join us in song? Come and make merry!"

"No." I turned back to my meal.

"Papa, why not?" Riven surprises me with her suggestion. "I bet you know a good song. Come on, it doesn't hurt to be happy every now and then."

"Listen to the lass. Here, take my lute!" The tipsy bard offered.

I frowned, but acquiesced to the challenge. I knew a song, a very mournful one at that. If these revelers are looking for a tune, by the gods, I will sing them one. Clearing my throat, I plucked at the strings of the instrument, familiarizing myself with the old patterns until I found the right course.

"Here we are, Riding the sky  
Painting the night with sun  
You and I, Mirrors of light, Twin flames of fire  
Lit in another time and place  
I knew your name, I knew your face  
Your love and grace, Past and present now embrace  
Worlds collide in inner space. Unstoppable, the song we play"

The stanza gives way to a roiling passion within my tortured soul, the words flowing free as I let loose the inner struggles of my being.

"Burn the page for me!  
I cannot erase the time of sleep  
I cannot be loved so set me free  
I cannot deliver your love  
Or caress your soul so  
turn that page for me  
I cannot embrace the touch that you give  
I cannot find solace in your words  
I cannot deliver you your love  
or caress your soul..."

I let the lute play a few notes, letting my little audience hang on every word, every pause with baited breath.

"Age to age  
I feel the call  
Memory of future dreams  
You and I, riding the sky  
Keeping the fire bright  
From another time and place  
I know your name  
I know your face  
Your touch and grace  
All of time can not erase  
What our hearts remember stays  
Forever on a song we play-

I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet air of the tavern.

"Burn the page for me!  
I cannot erase the time of sleep  
I cannot be loved so set me free  
I cannot deliver your love  
Or caress your soul so  
turn that page for me  
I cannot embrace the touch that you give  
I cannot find solace in your words  
I cannot deliver you your love

or caress your soul..."

I set the lute down and looked around, finding to my surprise that tears flowed freely from the eyes of both men and women. The drunkards were sobbing uncontrollably, lovers were embracing each other, and everyone else gave a polite applause at my performance. I didn't care for their laurels, I just wanted to be left alone.

I stormed out of the inn and stomped towards the horse trough, grabbing a handful of ice-cold water to wash my face and clear my head. With a strangled gasp, I breathed in the winter's wind. The song was not mine, but my long departed wife's. She sung that song to me the night I left for my king's quest. It was the last time I ever saw her, or my son before the waves of the sea drank up Heide.

"I didn't know you could sing so well." A familiar voice spoke from the darkness.

The corners of my lips tug into a smile, "Leliana..."

She patted down her horse's shoulder and closes the distance between us, "Would you write it down for me?" The rogue placed her hands on my face affectionately, "It's the most beautiful and soulful thing I've ever heard." Her lips warmed my cold own, and I pull her closer. When she finally breaks away, she remains with but an inch away, breathing on my chin as she looks up to meet my gaze.

"I thought you had gone to report to your Divine on what happened in the Weyrs?" I said.

"I changed my mind." Leliana explained, "You did nothing wrong, I see that now. What crime could one commit when you were protecting your own child?"

"I'm sorry I said those things." I apologized.

"And I'm sorry I misjudged you." Leliana pulls me close and embraces me, "I love you."

I stroked her fiery locks and hugged her back, "I love you too.

 **}!{**

 **I really love that song, Two Steps from Hell did an awesome job coming up with Star Sky, and I think it fits the overall mood of DS and DA in many ways. Also, fluff is rare for a dark fic, but I'll try to leave one here and there to balance the grimness a bit. Once again, thank you for your support, yall have a nice day**


	38. Hard Times

**}!{**

"You're kidding!"

A smug grin found its way into my face, "Oh, I'm quite serious."

Riven didn't like the idea, I could tell. "I've never faced a darkspawn before, let alone killed one!"

"There's a first time for everything, my dear girl." I replied, yanking at the reins of the horse to stop at the side of a nearby stream. Here, I let the animal drink his fill while I gauged our position in the map. I took another assignment pressed by the local task roster concerning the darkspawn plaguing the outlaying caves, preying on wandering shepherds and livestock. An opportunity to hone the girl's skills presents itself, and I seized it. She can't stay the princess forever.

"You've had plenty of practice with me, therefore getting used to it a little too much." I explained, "This way, you learn how to deal with something that doesn't play fair. The sooner you do, the better."

"Well, what should I expect from them?" Riven asks.

"The darkspawn will try to overwhelm you with their numbers. You should expect them to have a mix of melee-fighters and a whole lot of hurlock snipers. What did I say about that?"

"Don't stay in one place, I remember." Riven echoed, wiping the dust free from her axe. "But what if I'm not ready?"

"You're ready." I replied, "Don't sell yourself short. You've got the power to rip mountains right off the face of the earth, I'm sure you can handle a few hurlocks just fine."

"Thanks...I guess."

I grabbed the knapsack and bagged the supplies, including some torches and a filled waterskin. Leliana took her time meeting up with us at the cave entrance where the last victims were said to be dragged into. She was carrying the ivory bow I gave her from our adventures in Ferelden, amazingly remaining unscratched to this day.

"Have you been using that thing at all?" I asked. "Never mind, why did I feel the need to ask?"

"But I have!" Leliana answered anyway, "It's just that my tasks require the use of a blade than a bow."

"You use words, not blades." I pointed out, "Your work as the Divine's agent has turned you into a diplomat. Frankly, I'm a little disappointed."

"Why? Do you have a problem with that?"

"I'm a man of action, always have been." I said, "Diplomacy is a rusted chain that holds alliances together. I've seen it break one too many times. To say that it is a skill is a lie. It is but an illusion of security."

Leliana sighed, but said nothing.

We proceeded to enter the mouth of the cave with lit torches to shine the way, weapons drawn as the scent of dried blood and spilled entrails assaults our nostrils. There will be no hope for the victims, they're most likely dead by now or suffering an even worst fate than the former. Riven shifts nervously at the sight of the red stains lining the stalactites and cave walls, "I'm starting to think this isn't such a good idea, Papa."

"We haven't even started, little one." I rumbled, "Don't back out on me now, you'll miss out on the fun."

Our presence was felt, and the darkspawn within the cave stir. They emerge from the shadows like wolves within the underbrush, crude weapons brandished and gleaming in the torchlight. Their eyes, maddened with murderous desire, stare out like shining rubies. Fangs stem from torn and gashed lips, drool spilling forth from the drawn maws. They scream and smash their swords upon their shields, but for some reason do not press the attack.

"What's up with them?" Riven said.

"I think they can smell your blood." I muttered.

"That's...not a good thing, right?"

"They know who you are, that just makes you a better target." I replied, feeling the faint rumble of an alpha's footfalls as it enters the battlefield. "So yeah, it's not a good thing. Ready yourself, Riven."

"We're going to take on that thing?" The child swallows that lump forming in her throat.

"No, _you're_ taking on that thing." I answered, facing the horde before us. "I'm going to keep the lesser hurlocks from interfering, but you will kill the alpha. Remember everything I have taught you, and you will survive." In truth, I'm not as confident as I should be about my daughter's skills. I just hope it doesn't end too badly.

Riven slides under the alpha hurlock just as it raises its longmace to strike, cutting a deep gash with her axe across its leg as she passes over to its rear. She dives to the left when it swings in a wild arc, the longmace narrowly misses her head as it cleaves through the air and lands with a powerful thud upon the cave floor! The resulting thunder echoes above the din of the clamoring darkspawn. Leliana supports the child with her arrows, confusing the alpha as she aimed for the thick plating of its bloodstained helm.

I hurled a lightning shaft against the genlock snipers perched atop an overhanging rock, killing them the moment it struck their poorly protected bodies.

Riven spun around to gain momentum, delivering a punishing blow to the alpha's leg, chopping it clean off above the knee.

The darkspawn champion roars in agony as it drops to the floor, desperately trying to prop itself up with its weapon. It succeeds only to set itself up for Riven's killing strike- of which the child executes perfectly. With a determined battlecry, she hefts her axe and brings it down upon the alpha's face, shattering the thick plating of its helm and splitting its head clean down the middle!

Not bad for a beginner.

Riven's chest was heaving, but her face reflected on her victory. She looks to me for approval, and I gave it to her. Through the blood adorning her face, Riven smiles. I worried for a moment that she could contract the Blight's taint, but then noticed how the blood dried quickly then burned away from her skin, as if the malevolent energies died at the mere touch of her power.

I uttered a building roar as I channeled the roiling energies within my vessel into heavy gouts of hellish flames, unleashing them the moment the darkspawn decided to let go of their fears and swarm all over us. The wall of fire soon overwhelms them, leaving ashen heaps where beasts once stood. Another nesting ground uncovered and cleansed, more gold for us.

"It is not over." Leliana informed us. "If a darkspawn presence as large as this exists, that can only mean the involvement of a Broodmother. We must find it and destroy it."

"Papa, what's a broodmother?"

There was a foul taste in the back of my throat as I thought of the horrific abominations, finding myself reluctant to share the information that the child inquires of. "They are ghouls, Riven. Forced to feed on their fellows, then undergo the transformation should they survive the ordeal. Bloated obscenely to the point that they become immobile juggernauts, the broodmothers are responsible for reproducing the darkspawn locks. Steel yourself, my child. You are about to witness something that turns the stomach of even the hardiest of warriors."

"Um, okay."

* * *

It didn't take long for us to find what we were looking for. Located in the deepest recesses of the caverns, the Broodmother awaited our arrival within her lair, surrounded by Emissary Alphas and a horde of blood-crazed hurlocks. Massive and covered with sacs of tainted flesh, her bloated body stemming an array of blackened tentacles, the sight was most grotesque, and I heard Riven struggle to contain the bile rising up her throat. The Broodmother lifts her heavy limbs and howls, spewing forth freshly birthed darkspawn to add to her brethren's number.

"I wanna go home now." Riven muttered, the words spoken more as a joke than a whine.

I chuckled at her simple humor and spearheaded the assault on the breeding pit, enwreathing my sword with black pine and igniting it as I struck down the hurlock vanguard. A bright light fills the room as Riven casts a spell of her own design, interrupting the Emissaries as they attempted to combine their foul ritualistic spell into one powerful attack that dissipated as soon as the light scorched their eyes!

"Well done, girl!" I bellowed, blinking the spots out of my eyes. "A little warning would be nice next time!"

"Sorry Papa!"

Leliana had a smile on her face as she regarded the interactions between myself and my daughter, "Who would've thought this adventure was your idea of a family outing?"

It was way better than going out on a certain festival at a certain city in Antiva, that's for sure.

Together, we defeat the horde and slew the broodmother. Riven made quite a show doing it too, with her fancy flips and mixed spells. We made sure to burn everything before leaving the cavern. Never know when one darkspawn left behind makes a mess of things when you least expect it. Cleaning up after a battle keeps that from happening.

Upon our return to the village, I took my reward money and split it between the three of us.

Here, as we prepared to make the journey back to Kirkwall, Riven brings up the question. "Papa, can you have someone make an axe for me?"

"You already have an axe, little one."

"No, I mean a new one, something that looks as fancy as your sword."

My brow arches, "My sword isn't 'fancy'. The best weapons are not the best-looking ones, but the crudest-looking tools. And yet, in spite of this, they pack a hell of a punch. The same goes for your axe, my dear."

"Oh, I just wanted to make it feel special, y'know?" Riven said dejectedly. "Never mind then."

"Child." I took her aside, "I gave that axe to you not only as a practice tool but as a gift. Everything I have given you, whatever the form, has been for the sole purpose of making you stronger. I am teaching you now the value of function over form, do you understand? Not everything in your possession has to be pretty, that is selfish and foolish for anyone to think of. They only need to serve their purpose, nothing more."

"Yes, Papa." Riven sighed.

"Good." I rose up and helped her into the wagon, "Now let's go home."

* * *

Our return to Kirkwall took three whole days, and it was late afternoon when we arrived at the city gates. After submitting my papers to the City Guard, we were allowed entrance into the citadel. The first thing that I noticed upon our passage through the walls was the significant rise in Templar presence. Like some army sent to conquer the city while we had but a few weeks of absence, the military arm of the Chantry trumped the ranks of the Viscount's own forces. They practically owned the walls and streets as they patrolled and garrisoned the barracks in place of the City Guard.

I kept Riven close the whole time we crossed the distance from the walls into the Keep. Once we were safe within our castle, we let out the building breath within our chests. The child feels just as concerned as I was, "Papa, what's going on? Why are there so many Templars today?"

"I plan on finding out." I replied, carrying the baggage inside and guiding the horses to the stables. Once I've given their share of hay and filled the trough, I instructed the child to remain indoors while I headed downtown. Leliana offered to watch over her while I'm gone, which I gladly took up on.

As I passed the streets of Hightown, I noticed a commotion in the square. The Deep Roads Expedition team had returned from their tasks down under, but they came without Hawke and his party. I approached Bartrand, the dwarven prince and kin of Varric Tethras leading the expedition, and inquired of the fate of my friends. "What happened down there? Where's Hawke?"

"They're dead, so is my brother." He said matter-of-factly. "A cave-in, the roof collapsed on top of them and half of my expeditionary forces. Nobody survived."

"And you didn't dig out their bodies?" I said, for some reason feeling suspicious about the dwarf's words.

"Look here, sir, I don't know you and I don't owe you anything." Bartrand dismissed, "I just lost my brother and I'm very tired from the long journey. If you would be so kind as to not pester me with your inane questions, that would be much appreciated."

I frowned, acquiescing though I remained unconvinced. "Very well. I bid you good day."

"Thank you."

 **}!{**


	39. The Favor

**}!{**

I didn't believe him. I was right not to.

Bartrand betrayed the expedition team halfway through the journey. I learned the true story too late, for the dwarf soon disappeared from Kirkwall without a trace. Of all those wounded by this treachery, Varric took it worse. The dwarven prince swore vengeance upon his brother should he show himself in the city again. I chose not to involve myself in the matter, seeing that there were bigger things in life that needed my attention.

Like for instance, Garret's sister Bethany.

Knight Commander Meredith had become increasingly paranoid over time, issuing curfews and midnight raids on families suspected of harboring mages. Their attentions were drawn solely to Lowtown and Darktown, which meant good news for me and Riven but not so much on the Hawke family. To keep Bethany out of Templar suspicion, Leandra Hawke asked me to keep her within the castle and away from the mess until things blow over. I agreed on the condition that she pulled her own weight, which she did.

After receiving the woman into my care, Leliana soon had to leave for her tasks as the Divine's agent. She informed me that her absence will be quite long this instance, so I shouldn't expect to see her riding up the path any time soon.

Four years went by, and tensions rose in the City of Chains.

The Qunari, comfortably settled in the compound provided to them by the Viscount, still haven't left. They, of course, insisted that they were "waiting" for their ship. I knew better than to believe that, but again it is none of my concern. The ox-men sit at the Lowtown docks like gargoyles waiting for who-knows-what, driving everyone around them into madness. The spread of the teachings of the Qun reached even Hightown, and the little schools where my Riven attended. I had great difficulty censoring the doctrines being crammed down her throat by those fanatics prancing about the streets, I still worry if it was enough to keep her from being enticed to conversion. This was not because the Qunari did anything on purpose, but was due to the convert radicals they pluck from the depths of the city.

And that wasn't the worst of it.

While I was busy staying out of most of Garret's misadventures, I caught wind of the happenings in the Viscount's personal life. It wasn't good. His son, the wayward little rebel Saemus, decided to convert to the Qun. This, of course, sparked a war between the Chantry fanatics and the Qunari. From what I heard, it didn't end well.

Saemus was killed, Viscount Dumar was left broken with grief, and the Qunari are on edge.

Poor bastard, some people just don't know what to do with their lives. Once that business was dealt with, it seemed like things were getting back to their usual pace. All the better for me, I didn't care too much about that bit of trouble in the first place.

After the short span of four years, the little princess had grown up fast. All this time I hadn't known her exact age, and neither did she. Apparently, her dead parents never bothered to mark it on their calendar. So here I am, left to guess for her. It wasn't too hard though, Riven's first bleeding made it quite evident.

It happened on an early morning just as I was about to prepare breakfast. Screams came from the child's room, driving me up the stairs with frantic steps.

When I shoved through the door, I was met with the sight of Riven standing beside her messy bed, sheets blemished with heavy smears of drying blood. Riven's face was aghast, pale as a sheet. She was holding her nightgown up in bunches, eyes fixated on the red stains close to her thighs. She looked up at me with fear-stricken eyes, "Papa! I'm bleeding!"

For a moment there, I stood in silence. I remembered similar instances in my past life, and they helped me with Riven's dilemma. I knew exactly what was the matter with her. The good thing was that Bethany was around, so I've got someone who knows how to deal with...women stuff. "Calm down, girl." I shushed the trembling child as I gathered her up in my arms. "It's only natural. This is merely a sign that you're turning into a woman." I leaned out and called for the brown-tressed mage, "Bethany! Get in here, I need your help!"

"Yes?" The woman steps in after a minute, "What's going on here? Oh! I see...you poor thing."

"You handle this." I said, "It wouldn't be proper if I did."

I went back downstairs to finish what I've been cooking in the kitchen, arriving just in time to save the loaves from burning to a crisp. Toasted, just the way they liked it. I served the meal upon the wooden plates and poured on the leek soup. When I was done with my work there, I headed outside to take down the washed and freshly dried laundry on the clothesline. The heavy scent of soap seeped into the threads assaulted my nostrils as I unclasped each clip and tossed the bundle over my shoulder, prompting me to snort in annoyance. Presently, the girls had dealt with Riven's little problem and descended to partake of the morning meal.

With a mess like that, a lot of things needed tidying up. It was a good thing I washed the bed sheets of the last week, otherwise Riven would be sleeping on a bared mattress.

As I ripped free the stained sheets to replace them, I was amazed at how deep the blood seeped into the mattress. At this I sighed in exasperation, realizing that I would have to replace the mattress as well. "Damn it." With that said, I refused to grumble any further and yanked the piece out of the bedframe. With the mattress in hand, I dragged it all the way out into the courtyard and got a bucketful of water and some soap ready. Armed with a horsebrush, I proceeded to scrub the hell out of the stubborn pile of cotton until the redness was fully gone.

"I'm sorry about the mess, Papa." Riven apologized upon seeing me working on the mattress.

"Oh quit your fussing, little one." I grunted, "Finish your breakfast and change into your gear. The day is late, and you haven't started training yet. Come now, chop chop!" Riven's eagerness never wavered over the years, and it showed in her performance that morning. Her form was excellent, as always. Her powers have grown stronger than before, and she showed a greater capacity for control that allowed her to use them for a longer period of time before tiring out. I sought to keep it that way.

"Hello there, Langerd!" Garret greeted me as he walked past the threshold of the castle gates.

"Hawke." I returned his gesture simply, lowering my sword and motioning for Riven to take a break while I spoke with the nobleman. "You look well. How's life in Hightown treating you and your mother?" With the money he made through the Deep Roads Expedition, Garret was able to purchase his ancestral home back from the Viscount's holdings and settled his mother well. The family name was the talk of the town for months, but then faded soon after as all things do. His uncle Gamlen remained in his shack in Lowtown, which was a happenstance I was grateful for. I couldn't stand the old geezer.

"It's all good." The nobleman replied, turning to embrace his sister before jumping right on point. "Langerd, I need your help with something. It's quite urgent."

"I'll need to hear about it first before I make a decision." I said as I crossed my arms.

"Alright. First, the question." The man intertwines his fingers nervously as he stumbles around with his words, "Langerd, what do you think of Isabela?"

Confused at the inquiry, I blinked thrice in silence before giving my answer. "She's a foul-mouthed whore who happens to be skilled with a blade and has an unmatched charisma. Why do you ask?"

"I...er...I wanted to know what you think about us being together."

"Oh Hawke, is this what this favor is all about?" I said with a shake of the head. The poor boy's been ensnared within that pirate slut's cunt like so many others. "Unless it's a matter concerning the life or death of the city or the world entire, you're going to have to look to someone else for help. I'm sorry, there's the door."

"It kind of does, actually." Garret replied, "Please Langerd, see this one through with me for old time's sake. Isabela's finally found the relic she's been looking for, and this leaves no room for error. I really need your help in this."

The things men do for love. I scratched my temple in frustration, but looked at the younger man with understanding eyes. He'd stop at nothing to impress the girl. "No good will come out of this." I muttered, "Fine. Whatever it takes to win your little damsel, you lovestruck idiot."

"Thank you!" Garret let out a sigh of relief, "Meet me at the Lowtown docks. Isabela and I have set a trap for the men bringing in the relic, that's where you come in."

More like he's going to use me as an arrow-sponge. "Yes yes, get out of here before I change my mind."

* * *

I arrived on schedule at the place where Hawke was supposed to meet me with Isabela. The Lowtown docks seemed to have not changed much since I've visited last. The stalls were still there, deserted at the late hours of the night. Cargo boxes and lumber piles of sawn logs stacked against the walls that have been raised in response to the Qunari convert gatherings every week. The City Guard have chosen to back off from these grounds on command by Guard Captain Aveline, more for their safety should their presence antagonize the already skittish cult-worshippers. This also meant that the docks have become the city's breeding ground for outlaws and others of unsavory ilk.

One must always keep an eye on the shadows poking out of the alleys and blind corners, for one may never know when the next cutthroat might jump out to seize opportunity.

"You're here, good." Garret greeted in hushed tones, stepping out of the dark shed next to the warehouses. Isabela was there, and so was the newest addition to Hawke's retinue of followers.

"You must be Langerd." The ashen haired elf extended his hand, "I am Fenris."

"Let's get on with this." I said impatiently, ignoring the boy's outstretched hand and turning to the pirate. "Now where is this relic of yours, Isabela?" I noted the irked grimace at the tip of the elf's lip, but paid no heed just the same. I wasn't there to make friends, I was there to see to this business with Hawke as soon as possible.

"This way." The pirate lass lead us into the Foundry District.

As we rounded the corner, we found ourselves face to face with a band of stern and very unfriendly-looking Qunari warriors. Their sten pointed a finger at Isabela and growled out their reason for standing in our path, "Hold! You will surrender the relic!"

She was quick to answer, and her hand draws steel. "I don't have your stupid relic."

"The bas has no honor!" The sten growled, "Kill it!"

I drew out my sword and raked my fingers across the air, forcing time to slow its pace. With the Qunari moving at the speed of a tortoise, I was able to cut them down with little effort. Flesh tears as geisteel runs through them, and Qunari blood stains the Foundry floors as the ox-men drew back in shock at the suddenness of my attack. Wounds spill thick ichor and mouths utter strangled screams as the moments pass, and then there was silence.

"What are the Qunari doing here?" I growled, wiping the blood off my blade before returning it to its sheath. All eyes turn to Isabela, and our looks were of those of grim anticipation. She had some explaining to do.

"Er...yes. About that." She explains rather sheepishly, "The relic belongs to the Qunari, and there's a small chance they'd want it back."

I arch my brow at this, "Do the Qunari look like the sharing type to you? Of course they'd want it back!"

Caught in the spot, Isabela searches desperately for someone to support her. She looks to Hawke, "I've always known what the relic was. I just didn't want to...worry you." The excuse was weak, sounded so stupid it was enough to make me laugh. "The relic is a sacred text written by that Qunari philosopher of theirs. Keslan...or Cousland..."

"Koslun?" Fenris offered.

"That's the one!" Isabela exclaimed.

"Koslun, the founder of their religion, the most revered figure in Qunari history? That text would be sacred beyond measure."

Then came the confession, "I stole it from them, they followed me here to reclaim it and that's why they're still in Kirkwall. They won't leave the Free Marches without it."

I knew no good was going to come out of this. Why was I here I again? "Hawke?" Isabela was trying to save her own skin, as is the nature of thieves. This whole mess with the Arishok and the unrest in the city could've been avoided if Isabela had come clean and tried to repair the damage. She still has that chance. But would she take it? The decision weighed on how Garret would react, a test of his morality and loyalty- albeit greatly misplaced.

"Hawke." Isabela tried again, "I need this relic. Castillon wouldn't stop hounding me if I don't give it to him."

In the end, Garret chose the city above his affections. Inwardly, I applauded his decision. "It belongs to the Qunari, Isabela."

"Garret!"

He stood his ground, "We will handle Castillon later. Right now, this could be the answer to Kirkwall's problem. We will take the relic from Wall-eyed Sam and return it to the Arishok. Agreed?"

Isabela muttered a curse, "Godsdammit. Alright."

Gonna have to watch this one, she doesn't seem to be in the most agreeable state of mind. Something tells me that somewhere in the midst of the chaos of whatever's going to go down in the Foundry, Isabela's going to try something rash- and never for the good of anyone else other than herself. Garret made a mistake trying to entangle himself in her affairs, but that's his problem.

As soon as we got through the Foundry doors, the arrows started flying. The ruffian named Wall-eyed Sam was in the middle of a discussion with some Tevinter nobles, I knew them by the Imperial symbols they so proudly wore on their pelts. Then the Qunari, who so relentlessly hounded after the relic, broke up the meeting and attacked everyone in the room- including us.

"He's getting away!" Isabela cried out, making a beeline for the fleeing man as he fled the battle.

"Isabela!" Garret called out, attempting to give chase. He stops as the javelins come sailing, and he casts a shielding spell to protect us. I make no such pauses and stomp after the pirate woman.

"Take them out!" I growled at the man, "I'll get that wench for you!"

I drew my sword and followed the path out into the docks, then broke into a sprint when I saw Isabela quite a distance away. She was at Sam's heels, swords outstretched to cut him down. Encumbered by the large book he was carrying, Sam was an easy picking, and Isabela catches up quickly. With one fell swoop, she opened a large cut in his back that sent him tumbling into the wooden decks of the mooring platform. The book slides out of his reach.

"Isabela!" I snarled, patience wearing thin.

The woman ignores me as she went for the tome. She picked it up and retrieved her weapon from Sam's still-warm corpse.

"Isabela!" I stomped closer, making the awful mistake of lowering my sword as I stretched out my hand for her to hand over the relic. "Give it to me."

There wasn't even a moment of hesitation in her decision, "No."

I felt a sharp pain in my neck and a coppery taste in the back of my mouth. When I tried to speak, I only managed to utter a gurgled moan. Isabela had stuck her blade through my throat!

The betrayal was unexpected. I knew she wasn't as bad as most of her kind, but this act proved otherwise.

I dropped my sword and soon after dropped to my knees as the blood flowed freely from the gaping wound under my chin. Isabela had the courtesy of looking sorrowful at the conclusion of the act, "Sorry, Langerd. Nothing personal." As quick as the events turned, the pirate wench disappeared into the night, leaving me to bleed alone in that deserted deck.

 **}!{**


	40. Demands of the Qun Part One

**}!{**

I fumbled around for the estus flask with my free hand while the other kept a firm grip over the wound. Blood seeped through my fingers and spilled into the growing pool under my knees as the seconds marched on. I tried my very best to remain calm to steady my breaths and the frantic beating of my heart until the bottle was up to my lips.

The fires of estus flowed through my veins, searing the wounds closed and preventing me from bleeding to death.

"Where is she?"

It was Hawke. He finally caught up to me.

"Isabela's gone, and she took the relic with her." I growled as I rose to my feet. "Left a little present in my neck too, that damned bitch. She could be anywhere by now."

"Hm, once a thief always a thief." Fenris commented. "We should've pursued her the moment she went after that lowlife thug."

"Yes, you should have." I muttered.

"Enough." Hawke put an end to the pointless prattle, obviously feeling the sting of betrayal a lot more keenly than the rest of us. "We're heading for the Compound. We still have to deal with that mess." Garret was speaking of the trouble involving the Qunari and some guardsman of Aveline's. The details are lost on me, but I knew it could end badly as a result of what happened tonight. "Coming, Langerd?"

"Yes, whatever." I replied, "Things will undoubtedly go sour with the Arishok when you face him. I'm going to have to make sure you get back home to your mother in one piece."

"That's thoughtful of you, thanks."

* * *

"Hawke, thank the Maker you're here!" Aveline heaved a sigh or relief upon seeing us arrive at the Compound entrance. She and a large number of guardsmen awaited at the gate to request an audience with the Arishok, noticeably tense as much as the oxmen standing guard at the doors. There were few Qunari warriors standing outside, but they held their ground even in the face of so many humans that could very well overwhelm the gate defenses should they press it. Of course, fear kept the guardsmen at bay.

"Let's do this." Garret said, eager to take his mind off of the events of the other night. Aveline didn't press the issue regarding Isabela's actions, leaving Hawke to stew on the matter by himself. Together, our little band crossed the threshold of the Qunari Compound and approached the throneroom of the Arishok.

The towering oxman general hoisted his cleaver onto his shoulder and regarded the three of us with great disdain, all except for Hawke, whom he regarded with respect. "Shanedan, Bas-alit-an." The greeting was spoken in hushed tones, we could barely hear it, but we knew it was for Garret. I just hope his approval's worth something later.

Aveline spoke up, "Greetings Arishok, we've come regarding the elven fugitives that took refuge here."

"Irrelevant." The Arishok answered sternly, "I would speak to Hawke about the relic stolen from my grasp."

There was a pause as Hawke took a moment to gauge his next words, his reply was laced with bitterness. "One of my former companions stole it."

The Arishok seemed to be pleased with his honesty, although his face remained as unreadable as ever. "Her part was clear, your admission...is welcome."

"An issue for another time." Aveline pressed, "We're here for the fugitives."

"The elves are now Viddathari." The Arishok obliged her, "They have chosen to submit to the Qun. They _will_ be protected."

"Have they truly converted?" Hawke inquired, "Or are they simply using you as shield?"

"They have chosen, and so have I. You have not hidden the abuses of your zealots, or the corruption of this city. You will understand why I must do this." The Arishok turned to the elves who have submitted to his rule, "Let us look at your 'dangerous criminals'. Speak, Viddathari! Who did you murder and why?"

The eldest of the three elves stood forward and confessed. "A city guard forced himself on our sister. We reported him...or tried to." His gaze hardened, "But they did nothing about it no matter what we said. So my brothers and I paid him a visit."

"That doesn't excuse murder!" Aveline declared hotly.

Tensions were high, I could feel a hundred Qunari warriors line up their shots from all around us. We weren't in a good spot. Too open, too vulnerable for an attack. After centuries of facing all manner of monstrosities in Drangleic, I've learned how to read my enemy's body language. The Qunari all spoke of one thing.

It was practically screaming at me.

As the two parties argued and conversed, I put a hand on my sword and watched intently for the Arishok's next move. With Aveline's demands it was clear that each word that came out of the guardswoman's mouth chipped at his already frayed patience. He was bound to snap any minute now.

"Tell me, Hawke." The Qunari commander finally spoke after a moment of silence. "What would you do in my place?" He was trapped now, almost committed to the decision, but he wanted that reassurance based on Hawke's standing. I prayed he gauges his next words carefully.

He didn't, much to my disappointment. "You clearly don't like staying. Why not leave?"

"I cannot leave without the relic." The Arishok's gaze grows taut as he looks us over, eyes silently judging each and every one in Aveline's entourage. "And I cannot stay and remain blind to this dysfunction. There is only one solution."

Aveline catches on to his meaning a little too late, "Arishok, there's no need for-

He silences her with a threatening finger and turns his back, muttering a command in the Qunari tongue to his lieutenants. "Vinek Kathas."

I've heard Sten use that word before.

In a flash, I conjured a heavy bubble of magic that shielded the group from the Qunari assault that followed. Javelins bounced off harmlessly as the giants hurled their missiles at us from all directions. Hawke attempted to fight back, but Aveline stopped him.

"No! Too open!" She backed off, "Go! Go!"

We escaped the Qunari Compound unscathed, only to have the giants follow us out in what would be later known as the Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall. The oxmen burst free from the gates, eager to unleash four years of bitter resentment and frustration on the pustule of a city that they were forced to live in for so long. The guardsmen at the gates were slaughtered in minutes, and the innocents in the streets followed.

Saarebas were pulled into the fray as the Qunari spilled into the Lowtown Docks. The mage slaves called on their powers and sent tiny meteors from the sky to shatter the garrisons stationed close to the Compound, further securing the Qunari's claim on that territory. The giants did not stop there, however, and moved onwards to Lowtown itself! It was only due to Aveline's quick action that the City Guard was able to hold them down long enough to get the people safely up the steps to Hightown before all hell broke loose and the Qunari reached the densely populated center.

I was among the guardsmen when they were holding the oxmen at a makeshift barrier of barrels, wooden beams and hastily crafted wooden stakes. Here, I revealed my arcane abilities and sowed destruction upon the advancing tide.

It has been too long since I've been in a battle like this, and I found myself eager to revel in the chaos. Souls flowed as free as the blood that spilled onto the Lowtown streets, and they in turn fueled my rage to nightmarish heights. When the influx of magic became too great, I channeled the Soul Furnace to unleash it upon the giants as they made the mistake of surrounding me as they did Aveline's guardsmen.

"Blood for the Earth!" I roared, bisecting a Qunari swordsman across his belly. His torso toppled over, spilling his guts all over a frightened lad of eighteen. The guardsman yelped in horror, frantically pushing away the innards as he struggled to get back on his feet.

"Blood for the Sky!" My sword caught on to an elven Vidaathari's leg. With one savage pull, I drove the young woman to her knees. She cries out in agony and drops her sword. With tear-stained eyes, she looked up at me in desperation.

I held no pity for her. "Bleed for me! For all that bleeds may die!" I drove my sword through her mouth, wrenched it free and moved on to the next opponent. I tore through the Qunari ranks like a Drangleican Dragonrider, unmindful of the many arrows that stuck to my hide. They bite and sting, but they were not enough to kill me, so I ignored them.

One of the Stens finally noticed how much of a threat I was to their assault on Lowtown, and he orders his men to focus their fire on me. The javelin-throwers did as commanded and the hail thins into a steady stream as they threw whatever they had at me. I was no fool to let them score a free hit, grabbing a fallen warrior's shield to soak up the enemy fire as I advanced further into the source of the Qunari flood.

And then, the Arishok himself arrived.

At first, he stood at the flank of the Qunari vanguard, busy examining the chaos and giving orders to his men. But when he saw me cutting a wide swath across the battlefield, there was no hesitation as he decided to meet my challenge. Hawke and the others were too far behind me by now.

Good. I didn't need them to hold me back.

If I managed to kill the Arishok here and now, perhaps I can manage to break the resolve of the Qunari and give Kirkwall a chance to halt their invasion.

"You!" He pointed his cleaver at me, signifying his declaration of a duel.

I took a running jump and leaped across the barrier, dodging low as a Sten swung his axe overhead. My sword was quick to impale him through the middle, and I push him aside to meet the Arishok on the steps leading up to Lowtown. Aveline's guardsmen were dropping like flies all around. The barrier can only hold for so long, I knew I had to finish this quickly.

"Langerd!" I heard Garret call above the din of the battle, "What are you doing?!"

I ignored the man and focused on the Arishok. The taller oxman stomped up to meet me, "Are you prepared?" I think he meant my death. His confidence did not impress me.

"Are you?" I returned coldly, charging first into the fight with my sword raised high.

Qunari steel meets Heide geisteel with a loud crash, the Arishok parried my strike and spun around, hefting his heavy weapons with ease as if they were a third of their original weight! His cleaver comes first, striking me on the shoulder. The sword follows, catching me on the left side. Both weapons dig into bradden steel painfully, but the strength of the otherwordly metal held true and I push the weapons aside to return the favor.

The Arishok moved quickly to avoid the attack, but I caught him at the cheek. My next strike was delivered low, and the oxman roared in agony as the tip pierced deep into his leg. I did not celebrate just yet and followed up on the attack, casting a bolt of lightning that shoved the bigger brute away from me.

The Qunari commander growled out a curse in his own tongue and pushed himself forward, weapons driven to strike from the left.

I knew that strike was too powerful to parry, so I dove forward and let the blades pass harmlessly overhead. As he missed the strike, the Arishok struggled to keep his balance as the weight of his weapons drove him in an awkward angle. I seized the moment and kicked at the soft part behind his knee, forcing the giant to bend down and leave his back exposed for me.

I underestimated the Arishok's quick reactions though, and earned myself an agonizing wound across my stomach as a result. The oxman had spun his sword around under his shoulder and pushed backwards, impaling me upon it before I could deliver the killing blow.

I gasped as the blade sinks deeper. He looked over his shoulder at me with a small smirk forming at the twin ends of his lips. I returned his gaze with my own, unfazed by the wound. I managed a soft chuckle as I grasped the body of his sword, "Arishok. You can't kill that which is already dead."

His eyes widened in astonishment as I wrench the damned weapon free from my belly. I staggered back and picked up my fallen sword, returning to strike at the Arishok while he was still paralyzed with indecision. He finally moves when my blade catches him across the back, opening a jagged wound that spilled thick crimson ichor all over the geisteel shaft.

"Die, shem!" I heard someone yell from behind before I felt a something slap against the back of my head, followed by a sharp pain that robbed my right eye of its sight. My body goes numb, and I felt myself fall forward straight as a sawn tree.

It was the eldest elven Viddathari who murdered the corrupt City guardsman, he had driven an arrow through my head when I was otherwise preoccupied.

As my vision fades in death, I heard the Arishok angrily chastise the elf for interrupting the duel, therefore robbing him of the honor of besting his opponent in fair combat.

* * *

I rose again, resurrected when the battle for the Lowtown ascent had just been concluded.

Gathering myself quickly, I plucked the arrows from my body where I could reach and made way for Hightown- where I would assume Hawke and the others would've regrouped by now. I walked past the still-warm corpses of guardsman and Qunari warriors, stepping over the shattered barricade that was the only thing keeping the Qunari from reaching the Keep.

They wouldn't dare assault the Gallows for fear of the Templar's wrath. The Qunari instead went straight for Viscount Dumar, a wise decision for any commander. The Arishok had seized his opportunity at the most inopportune time, when the defenses of the City of Chains were at its weakest. It would take a long while before the Free Marches could rally their forces to the assault on Kirkwall, but by then it will be too late.

The Qunari will gain a foothold, and will signify as the mere beginning of a war- an Exalted March.

"Damnation, what a mess." I muttered, plucking the elf's arrow still stuck in my eye. Ignoring the crippling pain lancing through my skull, I fished for the estus flask and drank two mouthfuls to restore my wounds. The souls of the slain helped keep me from turning Hollow, and I regained my strength. Soon after, I reached Hightown. The Qunari had broken through the City Guard's last stand upon the Markets, and they were now slaughtering their way up to the Viscount's Keep.

Those that were caught in crossfire, all nobles the lot of them, were dragged behind them to be herded for subjugation.

The temptation to wade once more into the thick of it was great, but I reconsidered, taking into account what happened mere moments before in my encounter with the Arishok. That did not end as I wanted it to.

My sole concern now was Riven. I needed to get her out of the city before the Qunari drag her in with everyone else.

I didn't need to wait long to know how she fared in all this mess, for when I stood upon the little road leading to our little castle on the cliffs, I found the girl up to her neck fighting off ten Qunari raiders that stood four times her size!

I'm not one for exaggeration, but nobody will believe me when I tell them of what I saw.

Riven had broken free from her bonds and had taken off the cloth gag around her mouth. With one breath, she screamed the Qunari raiders right off their feet. Picking up a fallen battleaxe, Riven struck down their Saarebas and fearlessly hacked at the oxmen like an enraged mother bear. Bethany did not have the same luck and remained bound, hands and feet, on the ground. Looking at her fighting like a Mirrahnese warmaiden put a smile on my tired face, and I stood back to let her realize her potential.

Again and again, the Qunari attacked my little girl, only to be repelled by her ruthless response. The fury of battle raged like an inferno in her bright green eyes, she swung that battleaxe with a strength that belied the girth of her arms. All that training has paid off. She's ready.

"I'LL KILL YOU ALL!" Then again, maybe it's just her 'time of the month' that's given her all that pent up rage?

"Riven!" I called. At my voice, the rage died down in her gaze and a look of joy shines through her bloodied face.

"Papa! You're alive!" Riven exclaimed, lowering her axe as she runs to me for a tender embrace. "They broke through the doors and tried to take Auntie Beth! I stopped them! You saw me, didn't you?"

"Yes, you were amazing, little one!" I said sincerely, bending the knee to look her in the eye. "I'm proud of you."

 **}!{**


	41. Demands of the Qun Part Two

**}!{**

"Did you see Aunt Izzie?" Riven asked, "She might be in trouble!"

Oh, she's definitely going to be in a lot of trouble should she dare show her face after what she's done in the Lowtown Docks. "No, Riven. Don't worry about her." I replied, hiding the spite from my tone. "Wherever she is, I'm sure she's way out of the Qunari's reach. Come, we must find Hawke and the others. Most likely they will be up in the hanging gardens close to the Viscount's Keep, busying themselves fending off the Qunari assault. We'll catch up to them if we hurry. Help me get Bethany free, let's go!"

After I've released Bethany from her bonds we headed up to the gardens, avoiding the Qunari warbands sweeping up the streets for survivors whenever we could. Sometimes it doesn't work out that way, and we would be forced to tangle with a large contingent or two. There was no struggle in forming a working tactic in our little group. Bethany would support us from a distance, casting fire spells and restorative hexes that kept our fervor up. I would soak up the enemy's fire, whether it was the Qunari javelin-throwers or the Saarebas, while Riven waded in where her tiny frame can slip through.

She had grown stronger from all that I've taught her, and what better place to test her skills than in a real battle?

If she had any remorse for each life she took, Riven certainly did not show it. I knew it was only a fool's nature to mourn the loss of innocence, but as her father I was essentially responsible for molding her into the killer she was today. I felt that pang of guilt tugging at my heart, but I smothered it within a tight shroud of self-contempt.

I am so much more. My task in forging a warrior fit for the end-war to come requires ruthlessness, and I shall endeavor to teach that to the growing child. She cannot stay as such for so long. The days grow darker as they pass. She will need to be strong, as do I.

I parried the Sten's strike as he moved against me, then grabbed him by the throat with my cursed arm. The magicks of the Mists of Time pulsate within the veins hidden under onyx black skin. At my touch and thought, I thrust the Qunari commander through the ages within the short span of five seconds! He convulses violently as his skin shriveled with age, hair turned white as snow and eyes glossened with blindness. Soon, the oxman crumbles to dust, leaving me bewildered at my newfound power.

"That's...useful." I said, gazing intently at my hand as my fingers played with the dead Qunari's ashes. At the sight of the unnatural and very abrupt end of their commander, the Qunari lessers took pause and reconsidered their attempts to overwhelm us. They, of course, decided to do so anyway regardless of the odds. We showed them the error of their ways through steel and flame, then went on our way.

"Papa? What was that thing you did to the Qunari?" Riven asked.

"I...I don't know, little one." I replied, "Whatever it is, it'll come in handy in the future."

We stepped into the gardens cautiously, eyes scanning the many corners and entryways where the enemy might pounce on us. Bodies littered the floors all around, Qunari and City Guard mingling amongst drying pools of thick ichor. I heard the clash of steel further in and the explosions of fireball castings, a sure sign that someone was still putting up a fight.

"Hawke!" I called out as we rounded the corner, drawing my sword and dropping my visor. The mage was standing back to back with Anders, the healer from Darktown. A ring of charred Qunari warrior remains surrounded the motley band as they made their stand at the steps that served as the entrance to the Keep courtyard. Varric and that prince from Starkhaven supported them with their ranged weapons, perched atop the pedestals where the bronze slave statues clung to the walls with a vantage point that allowed them to snipe out their targets with pinpoint accuracy.

They had come to the defense of a group of Circle mages that had come under fire from the Qunari invaders. Most of them had died in the struggle, but some managed to hold out. Among them was the First Enchanter Orsino, the elf that acted as the voice of the Circle of Magi in Kirkwall.

"Langerd!?" Fenris kicked a human Viddathari he had killed off his sword, "What? But I thought you were dead! I saw that elf put an arrow right through the back of your head!"

"It's a long story, and I'd rather not get into it at the moment." I said to the ashen-haired elf, turning to Hawke as a brief respite allowed us a quick exchange of words. "Hawke, what's the situation of the Keep?"

"Aveline's off fighting alongside her guardsmen at the Red Lantern District. I've instructed Merrill to take the inhabitants of the alienage and Lowtown into the catacombs so they can be safely put out of harm's way." Garret replied after he embraced his sister. "We've received word that the Templars have deployed their troops from the Gallows and are fighting their way up the steps to reinforce the City Guard so they can retake the Keep from the Qunari."

"So the Keep has fallen?" I concluded, "Damn. That also means Dumar's dead."

"We won't know for sure until we get there." Hawke insisted.

"A lesson of life; what can go wrong will go wrong." I answered just as the Qunari came back in force. "The Viscount's dead. The only thing left to do now is kill the Arishok so the Qunari resolve will be broken." I conjured a large ball of ice and hurled it at the rushing opposition, detonating it with one thought and sending a shower of razor-sharp ice shards to pierce the enemy troops. The Qunari vanguard was whittled down to a handful, but was replaced with the bulkier and heavily-armored elite. It was harder to take these ones down, for their crude runes dispelled any form of magic thrown against them.

I bellowed a gout of flame and plunged myself headlong into the fray, ignoring the javelins pelting at my armor as I hacked away at the elite with reckless abandon. It was all a plot to distract them from one other threat.

Riven followed me in, cleaving her way across the battlefield with the strength of ten men. My sword swings one way, her axe swings another. The chaos ensued dies out as quickly as it had begun, leaving me and my child breathless and drenched with Qunari blood as we beheld our work. The sight of us working so well together and so easily leaving mountains of corpses in our wake rendered the others speechless. They had only to look at the bodies at our feet, the bloodied weapons in our hands, and the triumphant gaze in our eyes to know that it was all real.

"Maker's breath, Langerd!" Varric exclaimed, "You do get results, don't you?"

I chuckled, "Come now, don't act like that's the first time you've seen me lose myself in battle."

"He's not just talking about you." Bethany pointed out, approaching the child to wipe off the blood on her face with the hem of her skirt. "Where'd you learn how to fight like that?"

Riven pointed a finger at me proudly, "From him."

"Very well done, Riven." I applauded her performance, "Keep at it, and soon even whole armies will fall before you."

"Don't turn the child into a monster, Langerd." Fenris piped up. "Being a mage is a danger enough, even more so with a blade-

"Boy, do me a favor and shut the fuck up." I growled.

I've had enough of the complaints against mages, I certainly did not need the headache of hearing it from an angsty little snowflake like him.

The sound of marching steel-cuffed boots alerted us to the presence of the Templars. They had finally broken through the Qunari blockade and were now ready to make the assault on the Viscount's Keep. At the sight of the mage-hunters, I quietly asked Riven to avoid using any magicks in the battle to come so that her arcane gifts would remain a secret.

A good thing I did too, for the Templar ranks were led by none other than Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard herself!

Godsdammit.

"I am Knight-Commander Meredith." The tall, gray-haired and stern looking woman introduced herself. Her cold, blue eyes studied the faces of each and every one present. Her piercing gaze falls on me, but I remained unfazed as I returned the scrutiny coolly. She must've assumed I was the one in charge. "I know you..."

"No, you don't." I crossed my arms, and jabbed a finger at Hawke. "If you wanna talk to someone of authority, Hawke's the man you're looking for."

"Hawke? Ah yes, the name that has crossed my desk more times than I cared to count." Meredith remarked, "Too many. But that doesn't matter now, the Qunari have taken over the Keep. We will need to deal with them as soon as possible." Her eyes fixate themselves on the First Enchanter, "First Enchanter, you survived?"

"Your relief overwhelms me, Knight-Commander." There was a hint of sarcasm in the elf's tone. The animosity between the two leaders was not lost on me, I could feel it in the way they glared at each other.

"We must make the assault on the Keep before it is too late!" Meredith declared, "There is no time for talk."

"And who will lead us into this battle? You?" Orsino scoffed, "You and I both know this is not in the defense of Kirkwall, it is to seize control. I will not toss our lives into the flames to feed your vain ambitions!"

"I will not have you two at each other's throats!" Garret stepped in, claiming his place as leader. "I'm in charge!"

"You?" Meredith said incredulously, "You're not even of this city!"

"And neither am I." Orsino replied, "But I don't hear you complaining about both of us defending our home."

Meredith did not answer, but stepped down to allow Garret to decide on the next course of action. With Isabela's betrayal far from his thoughts, I noticed Garret make better decisions than he did before. It showed through the plan he laid out for the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander when we approached the Keep's gates. "We'll need a distraction so we can get into the Keep in one piece."

"A distraction? I know just the thing." Orsino, with Hawke's consent, stepped away from the group and drew out his staff. Led by the First Enchanter, the mages of the Circle taunted the Qunari warbands guarding the Keep's doors into a reckless assault, leaving the entrance open for a small party to gain access.

"Move!" Hawke beckoned, "Before they see us!"

The horrible noise from the ensuing battle drew most of the Qunari inside to investigate, splitting their defense force in half when we bumped into the Qunari elite barring the way into the Viscount's throneroom. We had the element of surprise, and it worked quite well in our favor. Under a hailstorm of bolt, fire and arrows did the elite quailed before us. I, along with Riven and Fenris, made short work of the elite's that remained in the lobby and forced the throneroom doors to open.

It revealed just how much more Qunari awaited us.

I had thought the hundreds were outside dealing with Aveline's guardsmen and the Templars under Meredith's command. I was mistaken. The hundred warriors were at the Keep itself! The throneroom was large enough to accomodate half a thousand people, an extravagant architectural design that did not bode so well for our little group. We had rushed in too quickly, and were now at the mercy of the Arishok yet again.

What can go wrong will go wrong.

The Arishok was just in the middle of his intimidating speech, one that would start Kirkwall's reeducation. He was seated casually on the Viscount's throne, cleaver and sword leaned close to the armrests, and at his feet lay the headless corpse of the Viscount himself. The Arishok looked up at us and smiled, "But we have guests!" He rose from his seat, wincing slightly from the pain in his leg and shoulder were I had struck him earlier today. "Shanedan, Hawke. I've been expecting you. Moraas-toh Evrishok. You alone are Basalit-an!" He growled at the terrified nobles kneeling before his mighty warriors, "This is what respect looks like, bas! Some of you will never earn it!" He turned to Hawke, waving aside his men to let us through. "So tell me Hawke, you know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?"

As if on cue, someone bursts through the doors of the Keep. Noisily, Isabela came bearing the stolen Tome that had caused all this chaos, with that damnable smirk on her face as if it was enough to erase the blood spilled for her selfish mistakes. "I believe I can answer that."

She handed over the Tome to the Arishok, "I think you'll find it mostly undamaged."

The Qunari received the relic with deep satisfaction, he breathes as if struck by a lyrium cloud. "The Tome of Koslun!"

"It took me a while to get up here, what with all the fighting everywhere. You know how it is." Isabela said to Hawke.

I glared at her with all the fires of hell, sharing the same look on Garret's face when the pirate dared to speak to him as if nothing happened. There was a mixture of relief, hurt and anger in Hawke's eyes but he said nothing. He turned away from Isabela and looked up at the giant just as he had relinquished hold on the relic to be stored safely within the Qunari's holdings.

"The relic is reclaimed!" The Arishok declared, "I am now free to return to Par Vollen...with the thief!"

"What!?" Isabela exclaimed.

"He can't do that, Papa!" Riven objected, "Tell him!"

"Hush, child." I silenced her, "He can, and he will." Personally, I wanted Isabela gone. She's put Kirkwall through all this and endangered my friends and Riven. She must answer for her crimes. It is only right. "Hawke, think very carefully about what you say of this." I cautioned Garret.

When a man is betrayed by one he loves, it is so easy to resort to vengeance- whatever the form. But contrary to my expectations, Hawke proved himself the better man and stood by Isabela when all others did not. "You have your relic." Garret said firmly, "She stays with us."

Oh, that poor lovestruck idiot.

"Then you leave me no choice." The Arishok replied, "I challenge you Hawke. You and I will battle to the death, with her as the prize."

"No!" Isabela interrupted, apparently having her ego bruised for having someone else fight in her stead. "If you're going to duel anyone, duel me!"

"You are not Basalit-an, you are unworthy." The Arishok answered.

Garret, apparently exhausted with this prattle, steeled himself and accepted the challenge. "Let's dance."

"Meraavas!" The Arishok roared, "So shall it be!"

"Hawke, your gauntlets seem to be a little loose." I called to the man softly, "Come here, let me tighten them up."

At first, Garret looked at me with confusion but then saw the seriousness of my gaze. He approached and I drew near to whisper in his ear as I drew on the cords around his wrists. "I wounded his leg and shoulder badly on the right. He will favor that side throughout the battle. Press advantage and stay as far away as possible when he swings. Trust me, those blades can sever a man in two with one swing."

"Thank you." Garret took my hand in his and squeezed my forearm. "Wish me luck."

"For your family's sake, I will." I said with a nod, "Go kill that son of a bitch."

Hawke wiped a smear of blood across his nose and readied his spear, calmly watching the Arishok as he waited for him to make the first move.

The Arishok hefted his weapons and growled like a cornered lion, rushing headlong into the fight with the same fury I've had the displeasure of facing this morning. There was a slight limp in his right side, and it proved to be the only advantage Hawke will ever need.

That is, if he recalls what I've said about staying clear of the Arishok when he uses his blades on him.

The man ducked as the cleaver swung past his head, then spun around in a graceful arc to slice at the Arishok across the chest with his spear. He didn't stop there, however, and tucked the spear in to thrust when the Qunari general reeled from the blow. Just in a nick of time, the Arishok caught the spear in between his blades and shoved Garret off him.

The tension of the moments were fanned to heat with every strike and parry of the two champions. Of all those present, Isabela looked on with great distress on her otherwise incomprehensible face. That was not the look of selfish thoughts of her own welfare. That was the look of genuine concern for the man who stood by her regardless of her betrayal.

"Look on and despair, woman." I said to her, "That is a man you do not deserve."

Suddenly, Isabela gave out a cry of surprise, prompting me to look quickly back at the state of my friend. The Arishok had managed to deal a horrible wound across Hawke's belly, courtesy of the wide reach of the cleaver in his hands. When Hawke staggered back to regain his bearings, the Arishok fed him his knee and knocked him to the floor! My hands clenched at the sight and I found myself whispering prayers to whatever god could hear.

"Andraste, give this man strength!" I snarled. I didn't care if I sounded silly for it, I wanted Hawke to live. For once, I wanted someone's story to have a happy ending. I had witnessed too many of those I knew perish before their time.

Then, as though the Prophetess had answered, Hawke suddenly found the strength to flip off the floor in spite of his wound and somersault to a safe distance. The Arishok's weapons collide on the floor with a loud crash, missing the Fereldan warrior just as he snatched up his fallen spear and landed three feet away from the Qunari general.

He clutched at the nasty gash to staunch the bleeding and glared daggers at the Arishok as he charged, quickly diving to the Qunari's left just as the favored side of the Arishok makes itself known. With the opening present, Garret was able to impale the Arishok upon his spear. He did not stop to celebrate on this however, and made sure that the Arishok would never recover.

Garret plucked the spear and sidestepped the bigger oxman as he stumbled forward, grunting in silent agony as his blood was spilled upon the throneroom's floor. The Fereldan warrior followed up with a stab from behind, piercing the heart of the oxman and stopping him in his tracks.

There were no last words. Just a sigh and a weak groan, then the Arishok falls. His corpse shuddered as it hits the cold stone, and with it all thoughts of conquering Kirkwall left the minds of the remaining Qunari warriors.

Hawke gasped as the spirit of battle evaporates, leaving him in intense pain, and he doubles over.

Anders and Bethany rushed forward to tend to his wounds, and the liberated people cheered at the conclusion of the battle.

I gave Isabela one last disapproving glance and walked out of the room with Riven not far behind.

 **}!{**


	42. The Knight of Heide Part One

**}!{**

After the defeat of the Arishok, the leaderless warriors disbanded and returned home to Par Vollen with the Tome of Koslun. What would have been a time for celebration was dampened by the sudden movement of the Templar Order to secure its claim upon the city. With the Viscount dead it wasn't hard for Meredith to seize control of the city's borders in advance of her agenda to rid Kirkwall of all its mages. The only person left alive to keep the overzealous Knight-Commander was the Chantry's Grand Cleric Elthina, a woman of great renown and respect appointed by the Divine to keep the peace between the Templars and the Circle of Magi.

Well, her and the newly appointed Champion of Kirkwall- Garret Hawke.

I chose to visit him on the day when he was strong enough to sit up, knowing that the man had sustained grievous injuries in his fight with the Arishok. The crowd of admirers had gone out by then, leaving the path open for me to pass unhindered.

As I entered the hall, I met Lady Leandra Amell, or Lady Hawke as she preferred to be called. The woman had aged well, and she seemed in good health. Worry had made the small amount of wrinkles on her face more pronounced, due in no small part on her son's behalf. "Lady Hawke." I greeted, "It's good to see you."

"Hello Langerd." She replied, "Are you here for my son?"

"Yes, is Garret able?" I asked.

The sound of muffled but quite loud voices rang through the hollow corridors of the Amell Estate, all of which came from Garret's room upstairs. Lady Leandra sighed, "He's quite busy arguing with that pirate girl Isabela. They've been at it for hours now. I don't suppose you'd be kind enough to step in and break it up?"

It's none of my business, I knew better than to barge in on someone's exchange especially with one as delicate as Hawke's and Isabela. "I would be much obliged." With three steps, I ascended the flight of stairs. Crossing the threshold of the Champion's room, I came upon the two when their argument has reached its peak.

"I did your sorry ass a favor and came back!" The pirate wench shot at the grimacing young man, looming over him as he propped himself against the pile of golden-frilled pillows atop his bed. "Had I given to my better judgement, I would never had set foot in that Keep!"

I could see the anger and hurt in Garret's eyes, although he did his damnest to keep his voice low and even. "Better judgment would have kept you from running off with the Tome in the first place. I would even go as far as to assume you weren't thinking clearly when you made off with the relic, fear of Castillon goading you to make an error, but how could I? How many adventures did we have together that proved we can do anything as a team? Did I not tell you we will face Castillon together should he come to Kirkwall for blood? Did that slip your mind, or were you really that selfish?" Garret paused to take a breath. Clearly, the wounds sealed had reopened. Not the outside where the flesh had been torn by the Arishok's cleaver, but the soul where the woman's betrayal cut deeper than any blade on the mortal realm. "All those people, all those deaths that could've been avoided..."

Isabela crossed her arms, "It would happened sooner or later anyway."

Garret gave off a laugh, a sound devoid of all mirth and humor but filled with sorrow. "You haven't changed a bit, Isabela." He turned his head towards the window and refused to look at her any further. His silence was enough to tell her that she was no longer welcome in his home. At least she was able to get the hint and decided to turn heel and leave.

"I didn't do it for them, you know." Isabela said quietly, "I did it for you. It was always about you."

"Seriously? That's the best you've got?" I muttered at the woman as she left the room, having stayed at the door to let them finish their talk before venturing inside to have mine.

"I'm not feeling dramatic at the moment." Isabela sighed in frustration, throwing me a sideways glance as she headed out. She stopped to have a last word with me, "And you? What are you doing here?"

"Visiting a friend, one that you've apparently lost." I drove the truth in deep out of spite, "So what's next for you, captain?" Clearly she had burned all bridges here, nothing left to tie her down.

"Well, that depends." Isabela's ample chest heaves, "A night in the Rose, then it's off to the Hanged Man for me." Her eyes twinkled as she remembered something, "Maybe I'll pay Riven a visit, see how she's doing."

"You presume too much, Riviani!" I growled, mood suddenly darkening at her proposition. "If you're looking for acceptance, you will not find it with me or my daughter!" Utterly disgusted, I left the speechless pirate to herself and entered Hawke's room, eager to cool my head with the man's company. The poor mage looked haggard, unsurprising given the state of his inner turmoil. His wounds are mending well, due in no small part to his sister's care, but that did not stop them from hurting all the same.

"Langerd!" Hawke smiled weakly, extending forth his hand in greeting. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

I grasped the man's forearm and nodded, "I've been busy. The Qunari have left a mess in my castle. Damned guts and bloodstains all over the place! Had to hire a few hands just to get rid of them all and replace the broken furniture." I pulled up a chair and took a seat next to the bed, "Overheard your argument, by the way. Sorry, hard not to when the woman's yelling at the top of her lungs."

"Yeah, it's fine. That whole matter's behind me now." Garret replied.

"Oh, so you're finally going to let her go now?" I asked.

"What? No, Langerd." Garret chuckled, "I'm not giving up on her. Isabela may seem rotten-

"May?"

"Point taken. She _is_ rotten to boot, but anyone can change when given the chance." Garret leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, "I hadn't overlooked her change of heart when she returned the Tome to save Kirkwall from further destruction. There's room for improvement, I'll let her stew on it for a bit."

"You're still an idiot." I sneered. "She'll only hurt you if you try to get close. Now might seem like things could be different, but you shouldn't let it fool you."

Garret opened his eyes at half-lid and looked at me, "Sometimes when I look at you as you say these things, I wonder what harrowing experience forced you to become so cynical."

"You should be glad Thedas is not Drangleic then, or at least not yet." I replied. "I pray that no one will ever know the suffering that my world goes through, cycle after cycle. It's best that you enjoy what this life can offer, although I disapprove of your attraction for the pirate wench." We talked on through the day until the clock struck the twelfth hour, calling me back to the castle to tend to Riven's needs. After that, I bade Hawke a speedy recovery and farewell, then left for the Keep.

* * *

A year had passed since the events of the Qunari Invasion of Kirkwall, life had resumed its normalcy. Hawke had recovered from his wounds and took up his role as Champion of Kirkwall, lending a helping hand to the citizens of his city and acting as advocate for the severely oppressed mages. Knight-Commander Meredith never let her hold on Kirkwall slip for a second, she pushed against the boundaries set by the Grand Cleric to deliver blow after blow against those she deemed dangerous albeit this was never always proven true.

Isabela disappeared for a while after that tense moment with Hawke. I almost thought she wouldn't come back, pretty much hoped she wouldn't. But then, just like that, she did and she didn't come alone.

I decided to drop by the Hanged Man, hoping to catch my old friend Loki drinking with the guardsmen. I hadn't the chance to share a word with him in a long time, and I wanted to that day. Alas, the opportunity was wrested away from me by one I had never thought I'd see again.

The young and eager voice, full of naivete as the day I first heard it, called from across the room above the mirthful yells and whoops of the drunken revelers. "Langerd! Over here!"

"Ah shit." I grunted. It was none other than Alistair, Aedan's best friend and king. Fate has dealt with him well, even after what he'd gone through. The years have weathered away the youthful flush on his young face, he looked more hardened, more refined than before.

"Hey! Don't be like that!" Alistair cried, struggling to make his voice heard. "Share a word a drink with me for old time's sake, come on!"

Helplessly, I looked around for Loki to get me out of this, but the man was nowhere to be seen. My gaze narrows as it found its way on Isabela, who was seated opposite of the King of Ferelden. Varric was there, and Leliana too. The redheaded rogue and I have not spoken in a long time, she was looking at me expectantly. I didn't dare refuse this, so I approached the group to sit with them.

"Langerd, you're looking well." Leliana greeted, scooting a bit closer to put her hand on mine.

As I squirmed uncomfortably at the public display of affection, I noticed Isabela catch on and eye me with amusement. "Oho, so there _is_ something I missed about you, Langerd!" The pirate laughs, "Andraste's flaming ass, I never thought you'd be the type!" The tensions between us had died down, replacing my initial contempt with indifference.

I did not take offense to her jibes. As I let my fingers close down on my lover's hand, I coolly gave Isabela my answer. "I am surprised of myself as well. And to see you back here in Kirkwall, I'm quite astonished. I thought nothing tied you down, what brought you back?"

"Yeah..." Her voice trailed off, changing the subject out of desperation. "Got myself a new ship, I'm back to being captain."

"Congratulations." I said, "You didn't answer my question."

"Let it lie for now." Isabela glared at me, "We've got more important things to discuss. Your Highness, care to elaborate for me?"

Alistair obliged, "Of course. Langerd, pleasantries aside, I need your help with something."

"You people always do." I rolled my eyes, "I guess my days as a mercenary are over, now I lend my sword for favors instead of coin? Let me guess, it concerns the fate of your world, or something along those lines?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact it is." He replied, interlacing his fingers together as he begins to tell me his story. "For near a decade now, I've ruled as King of Ferelden, seeing to its reconstruction after the Blight. I've learned from my travels of the fate of my father, King Maric, and of the reasons behind his disappearance. We're about to make the journey north to Tevinter to chase another lead, and we could use your skills in the battles we might face."

"Couldn't you bring along the others on this?" I asked, "I cannot believe I'm the first choice."

"No, you're not." Alistair graciously took the mug out of the serving girl's hands as she passed, "But I'm seizing all opportunities that present themselves to me. It'll be like the old days, Langerd. I'll feel safer when you're on this quest of mine."

"I..." My voice fades as I remembered my charge, "I cannot. I have responsibilities here in Kirkwall."

"I can take care of it, Langerd." Leliana offered, "I've looked forward to spending time with her."

"What? Now where did this sudden interest come from?" I muttered, "No. Don't press me. It gladdens me to see you, King Alistair, but I'm afraid I must decline your request. Excuse me, while I take my leave." Before he could say anything else, I was already up and about, heading for the door.

"Well, that was unexpected." I heard Isabela comment.

"Let me talk to him." Leliana's faint voice could be heard through the din of the tavern revelings.

I was out in the streets of Lowtown by the time the sun had begun its descent into the horizon, but that did not stop the Divine's agent from finding me and dragging me into a dark corner out of sight from the public eye. "Leliana! What the hell-

"I can take her with me to Orlais, train her with the best of the Divine's agents." The rogue whispered seductively as her fingers bypassed the twine on my shirt. The softness of her little hands upon my chest and the way they tentatively caressed at my skin added to my alarm.

"Why are you so set at getting me to agree to this that you would go as far as seduction?" I whispered back hoarsely, putting my hands on her tiny waist so I could gently but firmly push her off me. "And what's with you today? How many mugs of ale have you been drinking?"

"Not enough to get me drunk." She cooed, "This is all me. Is it working?"

"No." I answered with an arched brow. "But I can't say I don't find the attempt remarkable. Why do you want me to go?"

Her lips where on my cheek, "I want you to learn how to be a little bit more selfless. Be a good friend, accept Alistair's request and help him."

"Did you mean what you said about Riven then?" I felt my grip on her slacken.

"Yes, I want to spend time with her, help her grow." Leliana undoes the buckles on my trousers and slips down to her knees, making her intentions quite clear to me. Before she does away with my undergarments, she takes one more look at me with those smoldering green orbs. "Decide quickly, my love. My patience is quite thin tonight."

I didn't answer quickly enough, and I felt those warm and moist lips engulf me in a tight embrace. "Fine. I'll give his Highness my consent."

"Mmm..."

 **}!{**


	43. The Knight of Heide Part Two

**}!{**

I haven't been to sea for a long time, I had forgotten what it felt like riding the waves like we did crossing the Waking Sea. Memories flow back like the current in high tide, I could see those moments where I walked upon the decks of the Imperial Fleet, the pride of Heide.

By now those ships have been laid to rest at the bottom of the ocean, or in rare instances would remain upon the cursed shores to forever plague the land with undead brigands.

Isabela's ship was quite small compared to what I'm used to, but it does the job of transportation well. Months have been cut to weeks, spurred further by the lack of underdeep monsters in Thedas' waters. I guess I can count the blessings that have come our way, I'll have to make do with them for the worst things are yet to follow.

Alistair may have sugarcoated the details, but one thing was clear to me.

We had come to Tevinter to murder a man, I'd wish he'd just blurt it outright.

My stay aboard _The Pearl_ , a name given by Isabela in memory of her lost favorite, was eventful. The pirate captain made certain that the stories about me were made known to her crew, part of her tactic to scare them into loyal service. Some would regard me with awe, others with indifference, and few would ever be intimidated. Should they try to tangle with me, I would be quick to show them the error of their ways, though I would avoid killing anyone for the sake of the crew complement. I was smarter than that. The fewer the hands onboard, the less likely it will be for us to win a ship-to-ship battle should one ever occur.

When the sailors would not waste their time brawling or manning their stations, they would try to get me to drink with them. I would refuse with due respect, opting to keep my blade sharp and my reflexes even sharper.

Thankfully, I didn't have to endure this purgatory long. We arrived in Tevinter a few days ahead of schedule, much to Alistair's delight.

"Would you kindly explain to me why you're looking for Ferelden's lost king when it already has a replacement?" I said to His Highness.

"In case you haven't noticed the day of my coronation, and wedding, I never wanted the throne or the kingdom." Alistair replied, donning his best attire for the ball we were about to attend. Tevinter was like Orlais in many ways with its people's lavish living. In the capital city, they tended to use up their time more for parties than other matters of greater import. "King Maric's disappearance caused great distress for Ferelden, nearly plunging it into a civil war. His absence could have driven the kingdom into chaos long before the Blight even happened. This quest is not just for me, I'm doing it for my people."

"Well, at least it's a noble cause." I sighed, "Thank the gods, I was almost having second thoughts. Who's the target?"

"A man called Aurelian Titus." Varric answered for the King, "He's a magister involved with Maric's disappearance. Before we kill him, we need answers. The King might still be alive, so that means no drawing of blades on him until we get what we need, alright?"

"Wonderful." I snorted, "The one thing you've brought me to do and you bind my hands. I'll make no promises, Varric. If that mage starts summoning demons, I'm going to gut him like all the rest."

"Just let me talk to him before you do, please?" Alistair said with a shake of the head.

I growled, "Very well, since you asked nicely."

A minute later, Isabela walked in and thrust a handful of clothes my way, "Put these on."

"For what?"

"We're going to a ball, you're supposed to dress for the occasion. Wear full armor to that and you're bound to scare our quarry ahead of time."

"I can act as your bodyguard." I defended, "I feel naked without my armor. Leave me be, woman."

Isabela opened her mouth in exasperation, but Varric was way ahead of her. "There's no room for error here, Langerd. Just do as she says and put them on. Maker be gracious, we'll be in and out of the place before they start to itch."

After I had relented and changed into the formal attire, we disembarked and walked up the planks of the Tevinter harbor. I kept the leather glove and straps on my cursed arm, taking care to avoid showing to just anyone the unearthy onyx skin.

I caught Isabela leering in my direction every two minutes of our slow tread to the palace, but did not address it until it proved too annoying to bear. "Stop looking at me like that. What's with you?"

"Oh don't mind me, I'm just admiring the view." Isabela flashed me a knowing smirk, "You look absolutely dashing in that coat, let me tell you."

"She's got a point there, Langerd." Alistair chuckled, pausing to brush at his boots before climbing the steps into the palace doors. "You should come to parties more often."

"Oh, kill me now." I grumbled, twitching uncomfortably in the tight silken shirt and rough leather vest.

"Smile, Langerd!" Varric grinned, "It's a ball, you're supposed to be having fun!"

"My fun comes from the battlefield, but for the sake of the mission…" I forced a humorless smile into my lips. "There, are you satisfied?"

"That'll have to do, Varric." Isabela nudged the dwarven prince with her elbow, "There's our contact. Do your thing."

"Mae! You beautiful minx!" The charmer called out, turning a few heads with his sudden cry. A golden-tressed woman in her late twenties clad in a blue feathered dress turned and flashed Varric a sweet smile in response.

"Varric, you call your crossbow sweeter names than that." The noble slowly made her way towards us, calling off her guards to let her pass. "I should take you home and have you spanked!"

"Now, Mae." Varric took her hand to his lips, "You promised discretion. Besides, what would the servants say?"

"They'd likely say it was a slow evening." Mae laughed.

"Alistair, this is Maevaris Tilani- widow to my cousin Thorold." Varric introduced.

Maevyn must've assumed I was Alistair, because the next thing I knew was her roaming hands eagerly exploring my fingers and wrists. "Mmm, King or not, you've got hands like a stonemason. I'd love to see what you can do with them."

"I'm flattered that you would think of me that way." I lied, immediately showing her to the true King of Ferelden. "Forgive me, I am not Alistair. This is the man you're referring to."

Out of embarassment, Lady Tilani pouted. "Aww, silly me." She extended her hand for me to kiss, "Won't you introduce yourself then, sir?"

"I am Langerd." I replied curtly, applying a quick smooch to her middle finger before sending her Alistair's way. "Pleasure to make your acquiantance, Lady Tilani."

The look she sent my way spoke volumes on her intent. With a bat of her eyelashes she told me _don't go far, I want to get to know you better._ She turned to the pirate, totally ignoring the King standing beside me. "And you must be Isabela!" A man approached us with a wide smile on his face. Obviously, he knew the woman as well as we did. Perhaps even more so than mere friendship allows, given Isabela's reputation for promiscuity. "Lord Devon lit up when he heard your name, and insisted on helping. Shall we mingle?"

Contrary to my expectation, Isabela oddly seemed to despise the young Tevinterian. There must be something between them that had gone sour for her to act the way she did.

"I didn't mean to surprise you." He walked alongside the pirate captain, adamantly attempting to rebuild old bridges. "Escort for a king now? Just transport and security, or?"

"Don't say a word." Isabela hissed.

I had more than my fair share of unwanted attraction as well, for Lady Tilani refused to leave me be. She slipped an arm around my own and stuck close to me like a leech from the poisoned marshes of the undead bogs.

"Ahem, Aurelian Titus- is he here?" I coughed.

The woman regarded me curiously for a moment, "Yes, my contacts say he will be here along with every magister in the city. Why are you interested?"

"For starters, the man's collaborated with the Crow Assassins and committed acts of magical aggression against Ferelden." I looked back at Alistair, "But mostly, it's a personal grudge. Did I miss out on anything?"

"Thank you, Langerd." Alistair frowned, giving voice to his agreement. "Officially, we're marauding pirates. I took Varric's advice on not bringing along an army- given the politics."

"He takes good care of you." Maevyn jibed.

"I'm not sure he's your type." Varric answered.

"Neither am I." Her hand caresses my arm, making me twitch in discomfort. "But how can I be certain unless we-

"Lady Tilani." I interrupted, "We are grateful, make no mistake of that, but I advise you to slip out once this Titus arrives. We don't want you to get in trouble."

"I love trouble." Maevyn replied. "Besides, I don't want anything bad happening to Varric…or to you." Suddenly, the doors to the palace swung open, revealing the man himself- Aurelian Titus! "Kaffas! He's early!"

The tall, dark and handsome gentleman clad in black leather walked with the air of kings. At his presence, the nobles bowed and spoke his name with reverence like some idol. I could sense the demonic influence upon him like the stench of a thousand rotting corpses, the loathing I had for him grew with each second I laid eyes on him.

"Spread out and be ready." Alistair descended the stairs from where we stood.

"You're sure-

"Now!" The King hissed, making a swift approach for the magister.

I gently untangled myself from Lady Tilani's grasp and readied my sword, keeping out of sight and at a fair distance so I could dish out spells in order to better support the group should things get out of hand.

"Aurelian Titus?" Alistair addressed, "Do you know who I am? Funny that, you tried hard enough to get your hands on me. You weren't as lucky as you were with my father!"

"Ah. The tainted scion of Calenhad! The circle of blood complete, King Alistair of Ferelden! Welcome to Tevinter!" The magister mockingly greeted the contemptous young monarch. His cohorts were quick to draw blades, prompting me to summon a firestorm to be set upon the guards.

"Alistair! Get down!" I growled, tossing the spell across the court and then detonated it above the magister's men. A loud clap of thunder set a sharp ring upon my ears as the spell broke out into a cloud of burning sulphur and sparks, setting everything and everyone it touched alight!

The King was unscathed, but remained open to attack as he searched for the fleeing magister in the ensuing chaos. "He's getting away!" Alistair struggled to get free as one of Aurelian's men suddenly grabbed him from behind.

"Fight first!" Isabela freed the trapped monarch by stabbing the poor bastard holding him, "Chase later!"

"You didn't mention anything about being a mage." Maevyn said with an impressed grin, preparing to cast a spell of inspiration to aid in our battle fervor.

"Not now, Lady Tilani!" I answered hotly, severing a man's head from his neck with one clean swipe of my sword.

"This isn't your fight, Magister!" A Tevinterian mage in league with Aurelian called, brandishing an ancient wooden staff alight with blue fire. "Our master's quarrel is not with you!"

"It's funny how most of the parties I go to tend to end up like this." Isabela remarked.

"I gave my word to defend these people, I stand by them!" Lady Tilani answered the mage.

"You're a whore, you'll die like one!" He snarled, sending a magic bolt that tore through the woman's barriers. It would've seriously harmed her, had I not stepped in the way and bore the spell upon my chest!

With a pained grunt, I surmounted the burning agony and staggered towards the mage, taking advantage of his astonishment as he gazed at the horrific wound upon my chest in disbelief. One strike cleaved him from shoulder to side, adding to the growing mess of mutilated corpses upon the ballroom floor.

"Y-You saved me?" Lady Tilani exclaimed, gasping in horror as she saw the wound spurt thick red arterial blood all over my shirt. "Andraste's grace! Come here! Let me heal you!"

"No need." I rasped, taking a mouthful of estus to restore my body.

"Damn, we're running low!" Alistair cried, "We need one alive!"

"I've got it!" Isabela answered, taking after one of the magister's surviving men. The fleeing bodyguard found himself trapped when he jostled Lord Devon, who was standing idly in his way. In desperation, he wounded the nobleman but was distracted long enough for Isabela to catch up.

She didn't kill him, but knocked him out with a strong bash behind the head.

"Thank you, Isabela." Lord Devon said gratefully, "I thought he was going to-

Isabela surprised me when she turned on her former lover and drove her knife through his heart. The nobleman never saw it coming, and he died with that stupified look on his young face. When I approached the pirate captain, her only words for the deed was, "Aurelian's man got to him." She glared at me with all the fires of hell.

I understood her meaning, remaining unfazed by the threatening look. "Yes, he did." I looked down at the unconscious body of the downed guard, "We have our captive- assuming he knows anything at all."

"We should leave now while we have the chance." Varric paused to thank Lady Tilani for her help, "Mae, you're a doll."

The magister patted him on the shoulder but went straight for me, "I'll never forget what you've done today, Sir Langerd." She put her hand behind my neck and pulled me down for a kiss. I stiffened in protest but let her have that moment in the end, knowing that this will definitely be the last time we'll ever cross paths. "Be careful. That magister yelled _manaveris dracona_ \- long live the dragons- before he died. Tevinter has seen dragon cults before, they're never pretty. Don't be a stranger."

* * *

Our man had talked after days of ceaseless persuasions. We were on our way to Titus' island home of Seheron, a disputed territory between the Imperium and the Qunari. If I hadn't known any better, I would think the waters here would relatively be safe and out of that cult's reach. But I've faced the Qunari in many an occasion to know otherwise. If caught by the sea dreadnoughts, we'd be sitting ducks.

I suddenly didn't like the odds when I gauged Isabela's crew. They were too few to pose any real threat against the Qunari, and weren't that all well trained either. We'd offer no contest should the oxmen come knocking on our door. An undead can only do so much against a horde of those white-haired giants.

"…she sets one foot on deck, and you forget what she's like with a bottle of rum and a crowded tavern." Alistair and Varric conversed amongst themselves.

"I don't forget. I still got those scars from Ostwick." Varric replied.

"What?"

"Never mind. Do you have a plan for Titus yet?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead." The monarch answered.

"Uh-huh. You don't seem too bothered about what happened in Tevinter either."

"I found the man who stole my father away." Alistair mused, "The man who, unitentionally or not, started Ferelden on the path to civil war. Sometimes you need to flush a rabbit out of its hole to chase it down."

"And if it runs back into its hole to gather a hundred other rabbits that come after you?"

"Then we'll be living high on rabbit stew for months to come." I answered for him.

"Hahaha." Varric chuckled, "I hate rabbits."

"Especially when they use blood magic." Alistair agreed.

"Captain!" A sailor called from the topmast.

"What's going on?" We all asked as we got up to Isabela.

"Two Qunari dreadnoughts closing fast, Maker's bloody balls." Isabela cursed her luck. "We've got a battle coming! Grab weapons and buckets! We're apt to see fires!" She turned to Alistair. "Go with Varric and take a skiff. If we go on the offensive, you can slip away…"

"We're not abandoning you." The King declared, "I have friends among the Qunari. Well, a friend- sort of. Maybe I-

"I'm not losing another ship to the oxmen."

"You won't." I promised, "I've faced armies with a broken sword and a pack of grenades, I've battled the Arishok in Lowtown and tore through scores of Qunari warriors. I think we'll manage through a couple of dreadnoughts just fine."

"I can hear the doubt in your words, Langerd." Isabela shook her head, "I appreciate the gesture, but that's a promise you're going to break."

"I'll promise it anyway." I drew my sword and pulled down my visor, standing at the front of the crew as the dreadnoughts came to view.

Brand, the elven first mate, screamed at the top of his lungs as the Qunari dreadnoughts opened fire. "Gaatlok cannonfire incoming!"

I casted a strong magical barrier to protect the ship from the cannonballs shot out from the maws of the enemy dreadnought. The projectiles collide harmlessly against the shimmering blue barrier and plop out to sea, then burst in a loud geyser of saltwater. Harpoons followed, hooking on to our ship to be towed beside the Qunari warships, making it clear that the Qunari wanted to take us alive.

"That's a small comfort." Isabela shared similar thoughts, "The Qunari waste nothing."

"They will try to convert you!" I growled at the crew as the dreadnought pulled to side. "Death is better, trust me! Do not fear it, and it will be gentle to you as a loving whore! Fight and die as men!" I had better speeches at the tip of my tongue, but I had to remember these were illiterate men not soldiers on the battlefield. Better to put the image of wide succulent hips and bountiful breasts on their minds as a lasting thought than words of glory and honor.

It worked, and the crew cheered as I lead them into battle.

It was shortlived, however, and morale plummeted as the Qunari giants boarded _The Pearl_. Three men were skewered upon Qunari swords, six others were gutted- their innards spilled on deck to the horror of their comrades. Their cries of agony were enough to dissuade the men to abandon all hope in fighting back, and they soon surrendered.

I did not allow myself to sink to their level and fought on. Warrior after warrior fell to my blade as I waded deeper into the frey, never once stopping as I hacked this way and that. I no longer had to worry about collateral damage at this point, so my swings became more aggressive and absent all thoughts to self-preservation.

This battle was lost, but I would have as many Qunari corpses to my tally as I could before I would meet my temporary demise.

"You all die too quickly!" I taunted, grunting in pain as a harpoon lanced through my left leg, hooking me into place. "Come on! Fight!"

These Qunari were no fools. They noticed that no matter the number of arrows that pierced my body I would still forge onward as if they were naught but pricks! Harpoons slowed me down to the point that I was rendered immobile, caught in the middle of the dreadnought deck and exposed to the Qunari warriors.

They had at me, cutting deep with their swords and burying axes into my back and side.

Pain was dulled at this moment, and I revelled in the agony, never before feeling so alive! I laughed as they cut me down, driven at last to my knees before the Sten. Fear was evident in their eyes, for they had never seen an undying warrior such as I.

"Go on! Raise your weapon!" I mocked the horned woman who stepped forth from the bowels of the Qunari vessel. She drew a dagger and smiled with a kindness so foreign to me.

One slip of her blade and I was robbed of my voice.

I could only glare in defiance as I bled out before the Qunari. Seconds passed, then minutes.

Soon, I was dead.

 **}!{**


	44. The Knight of Heide Part Three

**}!{**

Something doesn't feel right…

What happened?

I died…I should be at the bottom of the ocean by now.

Why am I not underwater? Why does the floor feel so hard, so cold?

"Ah, the corpse stirs."

A familiar voice…

I forget…who is she?

The chains rattle as I lift my head to see her. The light from the small windows of the cell casts a beautiful gleam upon her sunkissed skin. Her prominent bosom peeked out of a tight bloodsoaked chemise that barely covered her hips and bountiful thighs…

Or maybe that's the whole point of her attire…

Eyes of murderous desire study me akin to a wolf hidden beneath the brush, ready to devour its hapless prey. Yet even in her anger, recognition shone bright beyond those brown orbs.

I know her. "Isabela."

"About time you got back, Langerd." The pirate captain sighed.

"Why am I in chains and not you?" I grunted, straining against the brass shackles keeping me close to the wall.

"They wanted to study you. Made quite a show on the boat, I'm pretty sure they'll be feeling sheepish around you for days to come."

They? Who's they?

Ah…the Qunari.

I remember a battle, at sea…A ship, a hundred oxmen warriors surrounding me…A Qunari woman and her dagger…she slipped her blade across my throat and ended my suffering…

"So they won after all." I leaned back against the cold stone. "I take it they've gotten to His Highness and his stalwart dwarven companion?"

"Yeah." Isabela croaked, showing signs of severe dehydration.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

The woman held up six fingers, "Days."

A week…damn it all. We're not even close to our main objective. "They've come and gone in this cell all that time?" I looked at the state of rot on my body, finding to my displeasure that the skin had started to fester and flake away, revealing pink-brown muscle beneath it all. "Held out against their attempts to convert you? How's that working out for you?"

"Barely hanging on." Isabela rasped, "I'd kill for a cup of water right about now."

Wasting away is a fate worse than death. Even more so with conversion to the Qun. I am unable to help the woman in my weakened state, but conversation and company would be able to lighten her burden. "Best of what we can make…we've got nothing but time."

"True, I've gotten bored staring at your lovely maggot-ridden body for the past six days… talking to you now's not a bad alternative."

We shared a long moment of silence as we waited out the heavy air of depression between us, then I broke it first. "In all the time I've known you, I've never seen you act the way you did with Lord Devon. He's a handsome man, an old friend of yours-

"Your point being?" Isabela scowled.

"I mean that with most old flames you tend to throw yourself carelessly at them, regardless of the circumstance. I can cite every instance you've done it back in Kirkwall, with the prostitutes of the Rose or the lesser known brothels of Lowtown, an acquiantance we meet in our travels or even rare times when a random stranger comes along…" I regarded her thoughtfully, "Yet after the Qunari invasion of Kirkwall, something's off about you- I can tell. What changed Isabela, the Queen of the Eastern Seas?"

The captain stood up and looked out at sea, unable to reply. She too was uncertain of what it is, so I spoke for her.

"It's Garret, isn't it? He's the reason why you grew a bleeding heart?"

"I can kill you now with my bare hands if you say another word." Isabela growled.

"Oh, but it will be worth it if you answer my question." I replied, unfazed by her threat. "Time with Garret, even if it was a brief tryst for you, has left its mark upon your soul. You tried to deny it, tried to drown it out in drink and sex, but it never went away…Killing Lord Devon was evidence enough."

"You love Garret Hawke."

Isabela groaned and clenched her fists.

"Yes! I do! I love him, damn it!" The captain screamed at me, "Is that what you wanted to hear?!"

"I'm not Hawke, and what I want for the both of you is irrelevant." My lips pulled to a smile in a way that tore the tender skin of my cheek on the left side of my face, allowing the bile formed at the pit of my throat to spill onto my shoulder. "But at least I know now that his faith in you isn't all for naught. The man loves you, more than you can ever imagine. Most would've left at the first act of betrayal, but not him."

I paused, taking the time to study the subtle hints displayed on the woman's features. Her gaze had softened, and so did the rage that contorted her beautiful face.

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you of all people."

"Who would you rather speak to? Merrill? The simpleton's mind will wander within the first three seconds of your talk. And Varric? He's not going to give sound advice for fear of losing you as a friend. I'm the only one who can take it seriously, besides your lover." I shrugged, "And I do not fear losing your respect if it means shattering this illusion you've created for yourself."

"You said he had faith in me, what did you mean by that?" Isabela asked.

"When you stormed off after your argument, the man and I discussed the issues between you at length." I reflected on the events a year past, "I can't say I was happy about it, but I obliged him out of respect. He said he was willing to forgive you, and that there was more to you than it seemed."

I chuckled, "Oh, I just can't keep it to myself- personally I don't know what he sees in you! Is there really more to it, or the promiscuous thief is truly Isabela of Rivain?" I glared at her, "Garret's a good man, this world needs people like him...To see him fall for a woman like you boggles the mind. Tell me, captain, is he wrong to think there's more to this facade?"

"There is...and it's not the kind I want him or anyone to see." Isabela pulled up her knees to her chin and rocked back and forth against the stone wall.

"Might as well spill it, you probably won't even live to see tomorrow."

She eyed me with suspicion, but relented in the end. "If we ever get out of here, you won't breathe a word of this conversation to anyone. Understood? I will be the one to tell Garret of what I feel in due time, but on my own terms."

I nodded.

"I grew up in Rivain with no one but my mother to protect me from the world-

I frowned, "I asked for an answer, and you give me your life's story?"

"You asked me to spill it! I'm spilling it!" Isabela retorted, "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, by all means, get to the point."

Isabela continued, "Qunari emissaries were always around, it was easier than fighting them off. I don't remember when I first heard of the Qun, but it wasn't long before my mother believed in their lies. She'd sneak off to the temple before dawn, swallowed everything the cult fed to her. Like she thought slavery isn't slavery if you call it a _code_. She wanted to join the Qunari, and I didn't." The woman bowed her head in sorrow and bit her lip, "And so she sold me off to an Antivan merchant for a goat and a handful of coins. She didn't even haggle over the price, that fucking bitch!"

I remained silent, impatient to get at what she was leading me into.

"After I was freed from Luis, I joined the Feliscima Armada. It was glorious, an adventure around every corner! I was the Queen of the Eastern Seas, men feared me- or wanted me...that was fine too. There was nothing I couldn't have."

"But the fun didn't last for long, did it?"

"Not at all hard to guess, right? The Feliscima Armada doesn't have a lot of rules, but you paid your dues- no matter what. Sometimes, some kinds of cargo paid better than others."

I caught on to her meaning, "So you were a slaver after all."

"We weren't slavers!" Isabela defended weakly, more effort to convincing herself than me. "We were just...carrying slaves."

My brow arches. "The difference being?" She gave me this long, unreadable stare for the longest time that I had to prod her on to finish her tale. "About Lord Devon, I take it he's involved in your tale than you let on?"

She nodded, "It was his slaves we were moving."

"Back in Tevinter, when he tried to reignite old flames...he spoke of an incident concerning 'cargo' and the Orlesian Imperial Navy. I wasn't too far away to not notice how you bristled and pulled a knife on him."

"My brief relationship with him was...due to my need for a distraction from the job. Worked for a while, until that Orlesian ship chanced upon us." Isabela sighed, "Orlesians hang slavers. We needed to escape, but Devon packed the holds so tight that we were too slow. I tried...I tried so many things. But the ship is a ship, and the sea is the sea- the Orlesians were gaining. I wasn't going to die like that..."

"And so you dumped the cargo."

"I reckoned they were better off in the bottom of the ocean than wearing collars. I thought of that every damn day since. I swore it would never happen again, so the next time someone tricked me into trafficking- I freed the lot of them. But the money I owed after all that was more than I could ever earn from raiding. My creditors were getting impatient, so I took the worst fucking job ever- to steal the Tome of Koslun from the Orlesians."

I heaved one hefty sigh, "Ah...it all comes clear now."

The narrow slit at the cell door was pulled aside, Qunari eyes stared out cautiously at the two of us. Once satisfied, our captors entered carrying a tray with a cup of water and some bread. This was the chance I was waiting for, and I waited until they were close before pouncing on the surprised oxmen.

The chains were long enough to allow me room, and I grabbed the first warrior around the neck to snap it in two. His companion's dagger was taken by the pirate woman and soon found itself buried in the oxman's side. This did not kill him, though, and Isabela was too weak to pursue a second attempt. Knocking her back, the Qunari raced out the door and forced it shut.

There went our chance for escape, unfortunately.

"Damn it all to hell!" Isabela pounded at the door. Seeing the tray of food and untouched water, she was quick to jump onto the rare meal and engorged herself on the food, but then stopped short when she lifted her eyes to my direction.

I shook my head, "I don't need it. Eat and regain your strength. They won't be sending another one for a while."

The soul of the Qunari I killed restored my body to a less rotten state. Summoning the powers swirling within me, I touched the fetters and melted them off with a pyromantic spell, freeing me from the restraints of the wall. Able to move freely now, I approached the window to look out at the prison courtyard below. We had not finished our discussion, and my interest in her story had been piqued- contrary to my preference. "You were wounded deeply with your mother's betrayal in such a way that you thought you could never trust anyone again."

"How could I when she, the one person in the whole world whom I thought I can run to, would so easily sell me off just because of a disagreement?"

"And what of Lord Devon? What of your other lovers?" I asked, "What of Garret?"

"They're all the same, they all want something in return. Loyalty, gold, my body. But with Hawke, it's different." Isabela rubbed her arm in discomfort. I said nothing, letting her realize it on her own. "He wants for nothing. The man's a tiger between the sheets, but I never felt indifferent to him come the morning. It was more than just a night's tryst. Every tender touch was out of love, the whispered sweet nothings were sincere...I guess I was scared of trusting him."

"Has he given you any reason not to?"

Isabela blinked thrice in silence, then laughed as it dawned on her. "N-No! He hasn't!"

"Well now..." I smirked, "Looks like there's something to look forward to in Kirkwall, is there?"

"Do you think...but what if he doesn't want me back?"

"Oh trust me, he will definitely want you back. Love is a beautiful thing, but it takes a keen eye to see it. Loving someone isn't giving yourself into slavery. It defines who you are, better than anything." I said to her, "I'm just glad I helped you see it before you were blinded completely."

"Did you get that quote from one of Varric's books?" Isabela accused humorously.

"As a matter of fact, I did."

"Langerd, will you kiss me?" Isabela shocked me with her suggestion.

"Isabela." I said sternly.

The woman closed her eyes, "Sorry, old habits. I'm feeling very passionate at the moment, I need to let it out somehow. Just a kiss, please? A friendly kiss."

I scowled, "Fine. But do not think this means any more than that. My heart belongs to another." I took her by the arms and allowed her to draw herself in. When our lips met, I tried not to think of how soft that velvety flesh was, but I didn't need to try too hard. For a brief moment, I saw a vision of Leliana in place of Isabela. She stared up at me with an arched brow, obviously amused at my decision, her smirk matching the triumphant look on the pirate's face as the vision soon after vanishes.

"You're a fine kisser. I'll admit, I'm a bit jealous of that redheaded Orlesian girl now."

"Rein in your lust, girl." I warned, "If you plan on committing yourself to Garret, you'd best start dropping these 'old habits'." When I felt my strength return, I shattered the thick walls of the cell on the courtyard side, opening a path for the both of us to escape. "Move!"

We leaped onto the square, facing four Qunari guardsmen too surprised to do anything at the moment. With a roar, I bellowed a gout of flame that reduced them to a pile of ashen corpses. Isabela grabbed the blades still intact and raced ahead, "We have to find Varric and His Highness! Come on!" I followed her, drawing most of the Qunari's attention to myself to buy her time to get far. The labyrinth of buildings was confusing at first, but the pirate woman was quick to find her way around. Soon, we came upon Varric and Alistair in a spacious and well kept room that acted as their cell through the chimney on the roof.

"Maker's bursting blackheads!" The dwarf exclaimed.

"Don't you have an awfully nice prison cell?" Isabela quipped, handing the other two some weapons to arm themselves. Taking a twig, she snapped the stick and started picking at the lock of the doors. She looked up at me, "Make sure to get them out safe."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Going to find my crew. They can stay or die fighting, but they deserve that choice." She finished her work and kicked the door open, "Go! Go!"

We wasted no time parting ways, Isabela heading left and the three of us to the right. The Qunari would've kept their ships close to the harbor instead of out on patrol, especially since the King of Ferelden was in their grasp. We didn't have to wait long before another obstacle was placed in our path. Blocking our escape to one of the docked ships was another familiar face.

 _"Parshaaara._ You will not be permitted to leave." It was Sten, from our adventures back in the day! What the hell was he doing here?

The towering Qunari hefted his warhammer and stood his ground, absent any guards or backup- though I knew quite well that he was confident enough to feel secure without them. Alistair approached the oxman, "Sten, it doesn't have to be like this. Titus is our enemy. We can work together!"

"I AM NO LONGER STEN!" The warrior charged, slamming his warhammer onto the ground as he missed the far more agile Fereldan.

"More guards will come." I readied a spell to do away with the warlord. I didn't know him well, so it will be quite easy for me to kill him and never feel the pangs of guilt. Varric stopped me.

"Let them talk it out, Alistair might be able to convince him to our side." He said, lowering his weapon as the Qunari warriors approached from behind. The merchant prince was quick to devise a plan, and he spoke to the oxmen. "Your Arishok challenged him to a duel, called him Basalit-an or something. I wouldn't interrupt if I were you."

Alistair avoided striking at his old friend when he could, but he couldn't beat the Qunari without doing so. Forced to pitch in all his effort, the King fought harder and soon overpowered the Arishok. Laid flat on his back, Sten glared at Alistair and dared him to finish it. But that was never the plan, and Alistair lowered his sword to extend his hand. "We were allies before, Sten. We can be again. Your people and mine, against Titus."

There was a long pause as the Qunari digests his words, then he grasped the King's hand and solidified the alliance. " _Marevas._ You have proven your mettle, again. I agree to your offer."

"Ah, that clears things up quicker than I expected." I remarked, watching the Qunari warriors cease in their hostilities. "Pity. I would've preferred fighting this out."

"And end up like the ship battle a while back? No thank you." Varric shook his head.

 **}!{**


	45. The Knight of Heide Part Four

**}!{**

"The Crimson Acolytes are preparing a defense, but there's no time!" Aurelian Titus' men called for the attention of the guards still posted in the laboratories. "With me!"

I crouched low with Varric and looked up as the dust from the ceiling wafted down from faint tremors born of the Qunari gaatlok cannons bombarding the Magister's fortress of Ath Velanis. We had gone ahead, taking the fight to Aurelian while the main force battled outside. Varric insisted that I back him in the endeavor, preferring a quick end to this charade than dallying in the chaos of the assault. With great reluctance, I agreed, accompanying him in the two-man mission to rescue King Maric and bring him out of bondage.

Another tremor, this one much stronger than the last, toppled statues from where they stood. "Damn, the Qunari mean business don't they?" According to Varric, Ath Velanis had a long and dark history. When it was built, a powerful Tevinter sorcerer named Malgorthios the Black used it as a place of sacrifice to send women screaming to the Old Gods. In the centuries before its adoption by Aurelian Titus, it housed madmen, demons, and the fraternity of grinning abominations.

I scanned the room below us for all that may stand in our way. There were three of them, standing next to the tables upon which the still-warm corpses of elven slaves were splayed open- their bodies flayed and gutted to let the blood flow free. Others were hung on large wooden beams, secured by heavy iron nails to drain them of their fluids to be sacrificed for more power. The scene was an absolute nightmare, nothing I cannot stomach but was still distasteful.

"Come. Let's get what we came for." I told the dwarf, eager to do away with the thugs and finish this quest so I can return home to my beloved Leliana.

"What did you and Isabela talk about in that cell?" Varric asked as he shot thrice, killing the guards in one instant. "She seemed quite bothered about it."

"You shouldn't concern yourself with it, old friend." I replied, "It's a loose end, between Hawke and her. It's none of our business, and you would do well to ignore it. Other matters call for attention."

"Oh right, that whole revelation about the Fereldan kings Sten talked about?" The dwarf trotted off alongside me.

During our time preparing for the attack on Ath Velanis, Alistair and the Arishok had plenty of time to talk about the reasons why Aurelian Titus ever involved himself with him. Ferelden had its legends, but the Qunari knew the true story behind King Calenhad and his successive scions. Before his rise to power, King Calenhad made a deal with a Witch of the Wilds and drank from the blood of a dying dragon. With this newfound strength he shaped Ferelden to the kingdom it was today, if you leave out the Blight and all. Even with that bit of information, we still had no idea what Aurelian wanted with Alistair's blood, but we could be sure it was of a malevolent purpose.

Varric and I searched each room, leaving no stone unturned and no guardsman alive. Maric was our goal, but we never expected to find what we did there.

"Mae!"

Lashed up to the wall in chains of steel, the beautiful golden-tressed Tevinterian was a ruined shell of her former self. Cuts and bruises lined every part of her body, and with the woman's state of undress I knew she had been raped.

"Godsdammit." I snarled, snatching up the keys from her jailer's corpse to release her from her bonds.

"L-Langerd?" A smile formed on her cracked and bleeding lips. Weakly, she wrapped her arms around my neck as I let her down to the floor. "Please...look away." Mae whispered tearfully as she covered her breasts, "I don't want you to see me like this."

"Titus will pay for this travesty!" I roared, my old knight's honor compelling me to avenge the abused woman. "I will gut him alive and strangle him to death with his own entrails!"

"I'm flattered that you would do that for me. But not yet... you must see to the King." Maevyn pointed to the next room, "Titus has him there."

"Come, Varric." I trembled with rage, taking care not to crush the woman in my hands as I helped her walk. "Let's get him free."

The next room was the library, and like Maevyn's torture chamber we were unprepared for what we saw.

"No." Varric breathed.

King Maric was tied, suspended over a curious red orb device that pulsated with powerful magicks. Tubes rose like tentacles from the device, lain pierced deep into the monarch's veins and draining him of his blood. His body was wracked with pain and was almost like a skeleton, but his eyes still held strength beyond the mortal vessel.

I drew my sword and prepared to strike at the orb.

"Careful, Langerd!" Varric warned, "We don't know what that thing does when it breaks!"

"Would you rather it drains what's left of his life?!" I retorted, raising my weapon to bring it down hard upon the red glass.

* * *

What happened?

I remember a bright red flash and a burning sensation...

I don't remember anything else...

WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER?!

The sound of thunder calls me forth from the room I found myself in, and I walk into the open door, unable to see from the blinding light of the sun. As soon as I stepped out, everything became clear to me.

I stood upon the ramparts of the First Wall, one of the three that formed the Rings of the Capital, the immortal bastion of Heide that signified its everlasting reign upon the Deep.

"Sir Langerd!" A messenger arrived, all dressed in full battle regalia and holding a longsword drenched in blood. "Sir! The Forossan army has breached the gates! Your brother, Sir Atlas, has fallen and his men had scattered! Lady Aada's attempting to hold the advance with a spell but it won't last! She calls for you to deliver the artefact to the King immediately!"

The artefact? What artefact?

I looked down and saw the Tidecaller's Sceptre gleaming bright as it hung at my belt. Recognition dawns on me as I finally realized where and when I arrived.

This was the Fall of Heide! This was the day when our kingdom was besieged, when the Forossan army had invaded and pushed us down to a corner- the day I had given the Sceptre unto my King and damned the whole nation!

No. Not today...

This time, it will be different.

"They have come for blood. They will drown in their own!" I summoned my retinue of Heide Elites and rode for the gates where my sister kept the Forossans busy. I found her among the last of her mage-brethren, the slain piled in heaps all around as they tried their damnest to stem the growing tide. The Forossans fought as vicious as the direwolves they brought from the Forests of Kilnharrow, relentlessly hacking at my countrymen and spilling into the streets of Heide.

"Drive them back!" I roared, feeling my blood boil at the sight of so many of those bastards trampling upon holy Heideian soil! "I want every last Forossan whoreson dead before the day is done!"

"BLOOD FOR THE EARTH!" We screamed in unison as we rode down the Forossan vanguard, forcing the forward line to shatter as our mounts galloped fullspeed, hooves trampling men and women to death even as they scrambled to get clear. "BLOOD FOR THE SKY! BLEED FOR US, FOR ALL THAT BLEEDS MAY DIE!"

"Aada!" I called to my sister.

The woman throws me a sideways glance then returns her gaze to the front, her face contorted as one would give birth to a newborn. The strain was demanding, but she held on with the strength of ten men, using her magicks to plunge the Forossans into a sea of fire that washed away all before it! The flames roared as they engulfed the enemy vanguard, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. With that one spell, the first assault was completely decimated!

"Do not rejoice!" I said to my triumphant fellows, "There will be more!"

"THEY"RE COMING BACK!" Someone cried. Shields were drawn together to form a wall of steel and tempered iron, spears were thrusted out like a porcupine's quills, and we braced ourselves for the next assault. Then suddenly, a terrifying roar overhead brought our eyes to frantically search the skies.

"DRAGON!"

Aada waved her hands and summoned a powerful barrier to shield us and our allies in a blue sphere that coolly absorbed the wyrm's flames as it flew past. The dragon was not content with leaving us alone and dove down to land upon the corpse-mountain. It hissed as it circled me and my knights, sending our horses into a fear-induced frenzy as they bucked and shrank back from the gargantuan lizard. I was unmoved by the challenge and spurred my mount forward, grabbing a lance and fitting it so I could pierce the monster's hide.

It was all a distraction, however, and the dragon soon found itself surrounded by our finest archers who wasted no time drowning it in a rain of steel-tipped arrows that struck its eyes- blinding it permanently! My lance struck true, and I impale the dragon's heart upon the metal spear.

The wyrm collapsed soon after, and I pull on the reins to return my mount back to the formation, for the Forossans had taken advantage of the dragon's intervention and had returned in double the initial force.

As my horse took a moment to gain its bearings, a small portal appeared before me.

Out of it came a small man in a brown leather coat carrying a crossbow-repeater, a woman-mage in blue and another woman scantily clad in a blemished-white chemise and thigh-high boots. They turned their gaze this way and that, absolutely taken aback by the scene of carnage before them. When their eyes meet mine, they widen with recognition. "Langerd! There you are!"

How do they know me? Is this a Forossan trick of some sort?

I drew my sword from its sheath and pointed it at the strangers. "Stay back or I'll run you through, dwarf!"

"It's an illusion, Langerd, snap out of it!" The woman-mage said to me. "You know us! All of this, it isn't real!"

"Remember the battle, on Ath Velanis!" The other said, "You shattered the Magrallen and plunged us into the Fade! This is just a dream, Langerd- your dream! Remember, for Andraste's sake, remember!"

Andraste? Ath Velanis?

The horse beneath me vanishes in a cloud of dust as I suddenly recalled all. But I did not want to believe it. Even if this was a dream, I wanted to live in it! "No. I can still make it right..."

The walls of the Ring broke down as the waves of the sea came crashing upon all, be it Forossan or Heideian. It washed across the streets, carrying rubble and corpses along the surf, until it finally swallowed up the armies fighting in the King's Road. I saw Aada look at me in fear, for no spells of hers was powerful enough to keep the ocean from having its due, no matter how she tried. But try she did, my poor sweet sister.

I glanced around in desperation as the dream collapsed all around me, with each crash of the wave erroding the fetters of the illusion upon my memories.

"Let me see them one last time!" I cried to whoever would hear my plea as I scrambled up the shattered bastion, searching with frantic eyes the one that always eluded me.

I found them, at long last.

"Druuna! Romulus!" I called for my wife and son. There, in the castle courtyard, they stood together. My beautiful little boy in the arms of his mother. They looked up at me and smiled, even as the waves engulfed and swept them away from sight. The image I had long sought was now burned into my mind.

I collapsed from an unseen weight and buried my face in my hands as I wept. The dream was gone, replaced by the heady atmosphere of the Fade, a place where all dreams come and go- and where the demons of Thedas stalk the shadows of the mind.

"Now we just have to find Alistair and Maric." Varric muttered, placing a hand gently on my shoulder. "Are you going to be alright, Langerd?"

I didn't answer, still shaken to the core from what I saw.

"Do you need a moment? We can give it to you." Maevyn said to me, "I'll head on with Varric, Alistair can't be too far. We'll come back for you."

"I'll stay with him." Isabela offered, crouching low so she could comfort me in my anguished state.

Time is meaningless in the Fade, which is why it felt like hours when Varric and Lady Tilani had left the two of us behind to go search for the lost monarchs. I took the moment to heal, although the wound in my soul stubbornly refused any salve I offered.

"Someone please kill me." I groaned, "It hurts so bad..."

I had never let anyone see me like this, though it was a rare occurrence for me to be so crestfallen. Isabela's eyes held nothing but pity for me, and I hated it. I didn't want her pity! It only made me feel worse!

"Druuna...my wife." My chest heaved, "Romulus...oh sweet little Romulus. Gods, I have truly lost so much..."

"And yet you've gained so much in return." Isabela consoled, "You have Riven, you have Leliana. You've got Hawke, me and so many friends. We're all right here, and we need you Langerd. Our battle against Aurelian Titus has not ended."

I remembered my pledge to Lady Tilani about avenging her, and this shattered dream served to fuel my already strong hatred for the man. "He will be gutted, and strangled with his own entrails! Aurelian Titus is mine!" I picked up my sword from the dirt and drank deep from the estus flask.

"In due time." A strong, authoritative voice spoke as a portal opens from where the other two had gone. It was King Maric! He was alive and well in the Fade with the three. Varric and Maevyn had successfully taken Maric and his successor back from their own dreams to gather for the final battle. "That honor shall go to you."

"We need to know how to get to him first before he in turn kills us." Varric turned to Maevyn, "Mae, any ideas?"

"The Fade works for all those who dream hard." She explained.

"Good, I'm overqualified." Varric quipped.

"If Titus is in the Fade, and we know he is, we'll just need to sniff out the scent of visions of ambition. Fortunately, I know just the thing." Maevyn turned to me, "And you, Langerd? Are you ready?"

"I am more than eager to spill blood." I growled, "Open the portal and take me to Titus. He has a debt to pay."

* * *

It smelled like incense and ash.

"So." I remarked, "This is Titus' dream."

We heard the screams, the sounds of rustling paper, prayers and clanking chains. Dragons watched from towering spires, and with a twitch of their heads incinerated all who dared oppose the law. Slaves wept where their masters left them behind, forced to suffer when they could not serve. The Qun and prayers of the Chantry had been purged minds of every living creature. I knew this just by looking at it.

"Dreams big, doesn't he?" Isabela gave voice to her agreement.

"He wants to restore the Imperium." Maevyn explained, having absorbed her fair share of Titus' plans from her time in the torture chambers. "Ruling Thedas with the power to shape men's hearts."

"And you wouldn't if you had this power?" Isabela asked.

"My people have a wounded pride." Lady Tilani answered, "Magic is useful, but it doesn't fix everything."

"True." I said with a nod, beckoning the group forward. "Let's go, we shouldn't keep the Magister waiting."

We stuck to the shadows, avoiding Titus' army of demons and guardians until we arrived at the Magister's throneroom where he stood alone with nothing but the Fade to summon to his call. There was no cause for ceremony in our attack, we just dove in after him and took advantage of the surprised Magister. Titus was quick to drag demons out of the walls to his defense, but they will not be enough to stop us.

"You should have run!" He said to us as he channeled all the power in his body to have at us with all manner of destructive spells.

"The same could be said of you!" I thundered, showing the man the true powers of Drangleican magic.

In my anger, Titus was able to seize me by the feet, trapping me in a pit of writhing flesh tendrils, but his victory was not assured.

King Maric appeared, "Leave him be!" The monarch drew his sword and lunged for the Magister.

"Die from the power that wrought you!" Titus shouted, summoning a spectral dragon to bellow its flames upon the king. Miraculously, however, it left him unscathed!

"Your reign is over, Titus. It never truly began." Maric said sternly.

"THE WORLD IS MINE!" Screamed the madman, "THE MAGRALLEN IS OUR LEGACY!"

"But powered by my blood." Maric stood tall against the Magister's spells, deflecting with the sheer force of his will. "You are not the dreamer here..."

"For Druuna, for little Romulus!" I snarled, driving my blade through Titus' heart.

"...I am." Maric finished, lopping the Magister's head off with one sweep of his sword and ending his reign upon the Fade. With his death, the dream collapsed, fading into the nothingness from which it came.

"We won?" Isabela asked. "Can we return now?"

"Any hold Titus has on you is gone. Yes, you can return home." Maric replied.

"We? What about you?" Alistair spoke up.

"We saw his body in Titus' laboratory." I said grimly, "With respect, your Highness, you don't look well."

"No. I suppose the Magrallen is the only thing keeping me around now."

"But you have a home to return to!" Alistair refused to give up now that he was so close to his goal, "A life!"

"I _had_ a life." Maric calmly said unto his bastard son. "The people I love are all here- Cailan, your mother, Loghain...none of them are in the world anymore, are they?"

"But I am." Alistair looked at his father sadly.

"You're the king now, Alistair." Maric placed a hand on his shoulder, "And a damn sight better at it than I ever was. Your mother and I tried to spare you this life, but...Alistair. Seeing you again, knowing that Ferelden is in good hands is enough. You don't need me."

"No, I don't. But you can't live in a dream, no matter how happy you are. You come back and you try again. You deserve a second chance! We can do it together."

Maric looked at him thoughtfully and smiled, "If that's what you want. Then I'll try." The two held hands as the Fade opened, releasing us from the limbo and back into the real world.

* * *

I groaned and sat up from where I had fallen when I struck the Magrallen. Varric was there, and so were the others.

But not Maric.

"Damnation." I breathed. He was still trapped in the Fade! The Maker had a cruel sense of humor, and it angered me to no end.

"It's really bad." Alistair said, at a loss for anything else to say.

"I know of healing magicks, of rumors of the Dalish." Maevyn offered, "Another Magister, exiled to the Anderfels...legends say they can graft spirit into flesh. But I...I just don't know."

We stared up at the suffering man in silence, Alistair took the worst of it.

I put a hand on his shoulder, "It's a terrible thing, to live as part of someone else's story. You need to finish this, or this story will never end." I could pass on my curse to Maric, if only I knew how. But then again, I would damn him into a worse fate than walking the Fade. At least here, he will remain happy amongst memories.

"I thought I needed Maric." Alistair drew his sword, "But in the end, it was him who needed me."

Summoning all his strength, the King of Ferelden made his decision and struck the Magrallen the final time, shattering the orb and destroying the magicks holding Maric's body prisoner- and the one thing keeping him alive.

As the artifact's power faded, so did Maric. His mortal vessel, having grown dependent on the Magrallen, crumbled into dust.

That ,more or less, wrapped up our adventure. Better than I'd feared, worse than I'd hoped. Alistair said he'd kill Titus, find his father and return to Ferelden to rule as a good and proper king. He did all that.

Later, Isabela asked me if I thought he did the right thing. I told her there was no way to know for certain.

We'd gone our separate ways after that. Maevyn returned to Tevinter, the King to his kingdom, and the rest of us back to Kirkwall. The City of Chains had become my home, of sorts. I'd never thought I'd think it, but I was eager to return and have my well deserved rest.

Little did I know I will never have it. Fate, after all, deals cruelly to those who've grown complacent.

 **}!{**


	46. Bleed For Me

**This is the first Author's Note I've made in a while.**

 **Honestly, I'm so happy that this fanfic has received so much praise as of late. But I'm afraid this will be the last chapter for this book. Don't worry though, the adventure will continue in the next one- the one that involves our favorite Inquisitor.**

 **I've looked forward to this chapter for a long time, and now it's finally here! A little warning though, it's a lot more bleak than most chapters I've written so...**

 **Well, anyways, enjoy :)**

 **}!{**

I stepped off the dock with my sack, full of all manner of traveling gear, slung over my shoulder. After two weeks at sea, I had grown restless aboard _The Pearl_ , and seized the chance to walk upon solid ground. Once my feet touched Kirkwall soil, I heaved a sigh of relief, then headed towards the Keep.

"Langerd?" Isabela caught up to me, "Will you do me this one favor?"

"What is it?" I asked.

"I...I'm not sure what to say to Hawke." She said nervously, "Maker's balls, I sound like a fragile little schoolgirl! How can I go about this? I'm usually so damn confident!"

"Get him somewhere private." I advised, "Or sit in the Hanged Man until he drops by, that'll calm your nerves- but don't drink. I know you're not you when you drink." Why do I need to be the one giving her tips? "You'll be fine. It's not like he's going to be mad at you forever. Now, leave me be." I ascended the steps of Lowtown to reach Hightown, the only route back up to the Keep. My eagerness to return did not prevent me from seeing the signs that something was amiss, I found my hand reach for the hilt of my sword as I passed the fork in the road leading up to my castle upon the cliffs. There was a great number of Templars today.

Later, I found there were many footprints on the muddied road. Too many.

The flash of lightning struck through the skies once, then followed by thunder a second later, heralding the storm that would come right after.

The rains poured on the land after a long period of dry weather, obscuring the path ahead. I wrapped my cloak tighter as the cold bite of the winds blew down from the hills surrounding the path ahead. The slope soon became slippery, and I had great difficulty reaching the Keep. Once I got there, a frown found itself upon my face as I noticed the gate remained open without a single person to attend to it.

Have Leliana and my daughter returned? Or did they expect someone coming?

Something was laying on the ground close to the threshold of the gate, I didn't need to wait too long to realize what it was. The corpse of a dead Templar lay sprawled, his body torn apart by some great blade. The wall had been breached too, most likely the work of my girl and her Sundercry.

"Riven!" I called as soon as I entered the courtyard, sword drawn and ready to spill the blood of any intruder who dared disrupt the sanctity of my home. "Riven! Child, answer me!"

"Langerd!" A voice called out weakly from within the castle. "Over here!"

More Templars lay there, the state of their corpses similar to the first getting soaked in the rain. Their wounds were jagged and were heavily gashed, their blood collectively pooled beneath their bodies until it seeped through the cracks of the castle floor. Locketti had fallen, nursing a grievous wound as he leaned against a pillar. With a bloody hand, he motioned for me to come closer.

"My friend!" I rushed to his side, "Rest yourself, and drink this!" I reached for the estus flask and handed it over, "Gently now."

Loki coughed violently as the liquid fire seared his injuries shut and restored his vitality, "Ouch! Maker's breath, that stings!"

"Tell me quick, what has happened here?"

"Your friend, the Orlesian woman, she came back with Riven." Loki explained, "I dropped by to visit in the hopes of seeing you, even perhaps tempt you into another favor for Lord Kentigan. But then, the Templars arrived. They accused Riven of being an apostate."

It was only a matter of time. "Argh! I had been a fool! I trusted in my security about all this mess and look at what happened!"

"Knight-Captain Cullen was with them, and he didn't listen to your friend no matter her protests. I guess Riven got too scared, and she went straight for her axe." Loki chuckled, "You should've seen her, it was quite the sight. The Templars were taken by surprise, the little girl fought like a wildcat, you've seen the bodies right? Hacked them to pieces, she did. But they overwhelmed her in the end, knocked her out when they found she could scream the whole mountain down on us. I tried to stop them, but Cullen cut me bad...They haven't gone out long. You might catch up to them in the Gallows if you hurry."

"They will pay for this trespass." I growled, helping my friend back to his feet. "Where's Leliana?"

"She gone after them too."

"Then to the Gallows we go." I said, "I've had enough of this city anyway."

We walked out of the castle, not even stopping to stock up on potions or other necessities. My foremost concern was Riven's fate. Many a grim end was possible, and thinking on it did not help cease the frantic beating of my heart. The rains did not help, either, and it served to only increase the urgency of the moment.

I heard the whistle, but did not see it until it was too late.

Loki's head turned to look at me, then snapped back as the arrow pierced him through the eye. Above the roar of the storm, I cried out his name. He did not hear me, and his body fell back straight and true like a felled tree. His one good eye stared out unseeing, the pit of it welled with the droplets that cascaded upon its surface. My spirit sank as I witnessed the sudden death of one of my closest friends, but my heart burned ever hotter...

I brushed my fingers over the eye to close it, and I lifted my burning gaze to the Templars who've returned to secure the Keep.

"Kill him too, he has allied himself with the apostate." Their commander ordered, sending the first line to have at me.

There were about twenty of them, the first of many to come. I drew my sword and let loose an angry roar, then charged at the approaching soldiers of the thrice-damned Chantry.

 _Blood for the Earth._

I tore through the men like they were naught but dried twigs, trampled upon the road. Their cries granted me increasing fervor, every swing of my sword grew stronger with each soul I devoured, and so served to bring a quicker end to the fight.

 _Blood for the Sky. Bleed for us..._

Hacking my way across the battlefield, I eventually reached the commander. He offered little contest, obviously realizing too late that he was out of his league. I was no mere brute that a Templar could so easily dispatch- I was the fucking Knight of Heide! His sword barely even made a dent as it struck me across the chest. I relished the fear in his eyes as I returned the favor, driving my blade down upon his shoulder until it tore through his ribs and reached his heart.

"For all that bleeds may die." I whispered, kicking the man off my sword and wiping his blood clean of its shaft. I turned to look back at Locketti and bowed my head respectfully, "You have done me well. Rest now, my friend." With that said, I made off for the Gallows, intent on slaughtering all who would cross my path should any hinder my mission to protect my daughter.

My journey down the path was quicker than its ascent. As I neared Hightown and the Amell-Hawke Estate, I considered enlisting the help of my friends on this quest, but then thought better of it. There was no time, I needed to get to the Gallows as quickly as I could. Riven's freedom depended solely on me now, I could not risk everything by wasting time clamoring for help that may not come.

Besides, I knew their methods. They would try for a peaceful solution, which will get me nowhere. Leliana was all the help I needed now. The Lowtown Docks came in sight amidst the heavy downpour.

"You!" I shouted at a fisherman pulling up his sloop into the harbor. Everyone had gone indoors by now, but not him. The old man looked up at me and pulled down his straw hat.

"Yeah?"

"Take me to the Gallows!" I demanded.

"For what? Do I look like a bloody ferryman to you?"

I made no hesitation as I pulled out the bag of all the money I had on hand, "You are now. A bag of sovereigns for your trouble!" I tossed it into his open hands. His eyes bugged at the weight of the bag, and he looked up at me in disbelief. He checked it for its contents and was astonished beyond words at what he found. "Now, take me to the Gallows!" I repeated, climbing aboard his boat.

"Er...yes! At once, serrah!" The old man honors the deal and unfastens the rope tying down the sloop.

Even with the storm, he managed to bring us to the isle. The Templars guarding the docks eyed us with suspicion, but allowed the sloop to make port.

"Hold! What business do you-

My sword slashes once, tearing the man's head free from his neck and sending a fountain of blood gushing forth from his shoulders! His corpse drops down with a loud thud, and the fisherman screamed in fear at the sudden act of violence.

"Andraste's flaming ass!"

The other Templars were quick to sound the alarm, but I delayed in their efforts to alert the whole Gallows. One bolt of lightning reduced the second guard to ashes, the others turned around to face me but were quickly slain by unmatched geisteel edge. I turned to the fisherman cowering on deck and pointed a threatening finger, "Wait for me here! Flee at your own peril, understand?"

He had no choice but to comply.

The wide courtyard of the Gallows offered little cover, but I had little need of it. It was the Templars who needed to hide from me, for I had severed all ties that bound my wrath within. The stories I told of facing whole armies of undead were not far fetched, nor were they beyond belief. I had done it more times than I cared to count, and emerged triumphant. This time will not be so different, except I had something far more precious to lose if I fail.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" I growled, casting a powerful firestorm that drowned out the approaching contingent in hellflame. The Templars who faced me were a mix of old veterans and eager recruits, none of which proved too great an obstacle for my path up into the Knight-Commander's Keep. "WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?!"

Men and women fell to my blade and spells without offering an answer.

"BRING HER FORTH!" I demanded, "OR I SHALL TEAR DOWN THIS WHOLE FUCKING ISLAND UPON YOUR HEADS!"

Arrows were shot from the ramparts, and the horns calling to battle were sounded. The elite reserve was dispatched, only to serve as more grist for the mill of war. It was almost comical to watch them put up a fight, only to realize too late that their fate had been sealed. In desperation, some of them even employed the use of their prisoner mages to aid in their defense. I cut them down as well, for I felt none of them deserved mercy.

The rains grew stronger, and so did my rage as my advance slowed to a crawl. More Templars rushed to the gates leading into the Keep, their formation reminiscent of my countrymen's defense upon the Rings of the Capital. They stood strong and unafraid, shields together and hearts beating as one. Their spears thrust forth like the spines of an angered basilisk.

But this time, I was the dragon.

I opened my mouth and bellowed a heavy gout of flame that struck the shield wall with such force that it crumbled like limestone! The Templars screamed as many of them caught fire, panic broke the formation and the ranks faltered. These were only Chantry guardsmen, not well-trained soldiers. I'd wager they'd never even faced a true sorcerer before, and I wasn't even on par with any one of those back home!

"BURN, YOU MISERABLE INSECTS!" I roared, shattering the gates to the Keep open with a telekinetic blast. More Templars were inside, but they were as insignificant as their dead comrades outside.

"Riven!" I called as the last of them perished from my sword. I ran into the halls leading towards the bowels of the Keep. The Free Marches gothic words described this place as the part where they brought in the worst of the mages, and my heart beat ever more frantic as I neared the end of the corridor. "Riven!"

An orange-red glow emanated from the cracks of two tall, heavily bolted doors. The twin statues of Andraste stood guard and stared down condescendingly upon me. The words _"Made to serve, not to rule."_ were etched deep upon their pedestals, signifying the fear of the populace against magic as a whole. I gritted my teeth as I dreaded what I would soon find in that room, but I did not let it hinder me...not when I was so close.

With a powerful shove, I forced the damned doors to open.

"RIVEN!"

Knight-Captain Cullen was there with his trusted elites, and there too was Knight-Commander Meredith. In her hands was a lyrium brand, and the other carried her scarlet greatsword. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing me, "Kill this intruder." The nearest Templar attempted to run me through, but I stopped him as I grabbed him by the throat with my cursed hand. Like the Qunari Sten I killed so long ago, I reduced the man into dust as I throttled him across time.

I eviscerated another that followed, and decapitated the other. "WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?!"

Knight-Commander Meredith smirked at my words and raised her hand, signaling her men to hold. "You want her? She's right here, with us."

Faint steps could be heard as the one I sought approached from behind the Knight-Commander. The voice, which once held so much love and joy, now spoke with cold, unfeeling indifference. "Papa."

"No."

I was seeing it. But my mind refused to believe. How could I?

My knees grew weak, and I fell before my gathered enemies, feeling the crushing weight of defeat upon my shoulders.

For there upon her forehead, blazing red and as fresh as a newborn rose, was the Chantry's mark.

The Mark of Tranquility.

 **}!{**

 **Second part is on its way, stay tuned :)**


	47. All That Bleeds May Die

**}!{**

My body grew numb, as though something died in me. "You came to my home...looking for apostates and demons..."

Now, all I felt was anger. Raw, undiluted, unquenchable anger.

It twisted everything in sight to red. It was the anger that all monsters in Drangleic felt when the last shred of humanity died with the First Flame.

"I am far worse."

I rose up just as the Knight-Commander raised her weapon. Pure red lyrium met geisteel in a horrid crash that reverberated all throughout the room, Meredith strained against me though I put in little effort in the scuffle. I threw her off with a blast of telekinesis, pausing to strike at her Templar brethren before resuming our fight. The Templar elite entrapped me in a shroud that negated all manner of magic, but that did not stop me from using my sword. Limbs were severed, the dying men screamed, and all that stood between me and my vengeance was Knight-Captain Cullen.

He had witnessed me sustain so much grievous injuries, only to rise again unfazed. The man, as I've heard Hawke speak of, was a tad better than most Templars. His heart was in the right place, but unfortunately- today he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It didn't matter. I killed him too.

He moved too slow, swinging that greatsword of his to cleave at me. Cullen screamed in agony as I cut him down, severing his legs right from under him and sending him toppling over! He doesn't plead for mercy, which was more than I can say for many Templars I killed today. I drove my sword through his mouth and out the back of his head, putting an end to his misery.

With him dead, I was free to exact vengeance upon the Knight-Commander. Meredith was visibly enraged by the sight of so many of her comrades die without meaning, none of them even proving strong enough to keep me at bay. She hefted her weapon upon her shoulder and taunted me to come forth. The golem that used to be my child stood a few feet away, staring motionlessly as the two of us battled fiercely in the antechamber.

"You took away something very precious to me, Meredith." I said, voice enwreathed with the fury of a thousand souls clamoring for justice. "She was everything to me...the one person keeping me human." I parried her strike and kicked her down the middle. "Now that she's gone...you have damned all of Thedas."

"I have saved this world from another evil!" The woman defended, "All of you, mage-kin! You deserve to be killed or be made Tranquil!"

"I will burn Kirkwall to the ground." I vowed, "But before that, I will make you suffer. Then, I will kill you."

"You're certainly welcome to try!" Meredith laughed.

I caught her by the pauldron and threw her across the room, sending her slamming headfirst against the wall, shattering the hard stone barrier that kept our battle separated from the courtyard below. Meredith coughed up a mouthful of blood and spit. Something was broken, but she refused to let it hinder her ability to fight. With a banshee-like scream, she rushed at me, her sword cleaving through the air with blinding speed. I stepped back and allowed the blade to sail harmlessly past, then struck at her sword-arm.

Meredith cried out as my blade cut her badly across the shoulder. She staggered backwards and glared at me with all the fires of hell, "Maker! Your servant begs you for the power to defeat this-

She does not finish her prayer to that bastard on the Golden Throne. My hand closed down on her mouth, and I hurled her out through the hole in the wall, sending her crashing upon the hard stone floor of the Gallows courtyard. I leaped into the frey to rejoin her, ignoring the thousands who had gathered upon the Gallows shores to witness my one-man assault upon the Templars' bastion. Hawke was there, with all of his friends and companions. Guard-Captain Aveline and her host of City Guardsmen were at his back, and so were the Kirkwall's defense reserve infantry. Leliana was among them, she had taken her time gathering allies instead of a direct confrontation on the Keep.

My anger grew. She could've stopped Meredith before she had the chance to turn my daughter Tranquil!

Word had no doubt spread across Kirkwall of my actions, but I cared little for it at this point.

"Langerd!" The Champion called. "What is this madness?!"

"Be silent." I growled at him, approaching the Knight-Commander just as she began reaching for her fallen weapon. I stomped down hard on her wrist, breaking the bone in two places. Meredith cried out in agony, then gasped as I lifted her off the ground by the throat.

"Langerd, stop!" Garret said firmly, raising his staff. "What is going on?"

I relented, throwing my head towards the Gallows Keep. "Feast your eyes and see your answer!"

"Andraste's mercy." I heard Varric gasp as Riven stepped out of the ruined castle. Everyone could see her now, and know of what has happened.

"And you..." I turned to the woman struggling to get free from my death-grip, "...Meredith Stannard. Tell me something, did you do all of these atrocities for your faith or in the name of vengeance?"

"It was all for Lady Andraste!" The zealot cried, staring defiantly into my eyes.

"So you aspired to become like your beloved Prophetess?" I responded coldly, "Very well...you shall die like her." I set the Knight-Commander aflame, ignoring Garret's loud protests as I released the immolated Templar. Meredith screamed and screamed until her lungs were robbed of breath, her agonized voice sounding so sweet to my ears.

"You fool! What have you done?!" Garret shouted.

"I've balanced the fucking scale!" I shot back.

"You've done anything but!" The Champion threw his hands up to heaven, "You've doomed every mage in Kirkwall and the Free Marches because of what you did!"

"No, she doomed all of you by making Riven Tranquil." The scowl on my face grew taut as I watched Isabela and Bethany rush to tend to the passive child, as if there was anything they could do about it. "And what is with this manner of yours, Hawke? You condone the actions of the Knight-Commander?"

"No! Of course not!" Hawke ran his fingers through his hair, "But killing her does not help anyone's case, not even yours! The wrath of the Templars would soon be upon us, they will slaughter every mage- be they apostate or not! Do you not realize this?!"

"It was going to happen sooner or later!" Anders declared, the voice of the Spirit of Vengeance echoing beneath his words. "I believe Langerd is justified by his actions. Instead of arguing, we must leave this place as quickly as we can and prepare for the worst."

I cared little for anything now. The fires of hate burned hotter still within me. I could only think of one thing, and that is to fulfill my vow. "I WILL BURN KIRKWALL TO THE GROUND, I SHALL TRAMPLE UPON THE ASHES OF THIS PLACE AND SOW THE FIELDS WITH THE BLOOD OF THE SLAIN!" I felt something grow, something dark and ugly. The Darksign whispered for me to take my vengeance upon the city. There was nothing holding me back.

Reason had nothing to do with it. I was blinded to everything, for my mind had twisted everything to red. All I could think of now was to maim, to kill, to burn. It was like something snapped, and I reverted to the Hollowed man I was before I even landed upon the shores of Thedas.

They tried reasoning with me, but to no avail. I was beyond persuasion now.

"Langerd, stop this!" Hawke attempted to keep me from reaching the harbor. He knew I was serious.

"Stand aside, Hawke!" I warned him once, "Stand aside or I will strike you down! Whatever fetters of friendship lie between us is gone, hinder me at your own peril!"

The Champion drew his spear, "I cannot stand by and let you slaughter innocents. As Champion of Kirkwall, it is my duty to stop you."

"Then you will die with them!" I snarled, raising my sword against the man. "Come! Have at me, son of Ferelden! See your error before I send you screaming to the void!"

I saw the man's lips tighten with determination. He didn't want to fight me, but I didn't care for what he wanted. He stood against me, and so he must fall. Without Riven to save the Maker in the Godstorm, this world is doomed anyway. What is one more corpse amongst the foundations of Nahr Alma's soon coming kingdom?

I grunted as an arrow struck me from the back, and I turned to see them all raise their weapons against me. All of them, people I once called friends and allies...all turned to enemies in a single day.

Sebastian.

Fenris.

Merrill.

Aveline.

Varric.

Anders.

Bethany.

Leliana...

"Sheathe your sword, Langerd. Abandon this path of vengeance..." Garret said calmly, lowering his weapon. "We could-

I struck out so suddenly that Garret blinked three times before he realized that I had dealt him his death wound. The Champion's spear had been split in two, unable to stop the geisteel edge from sinking into his armor, tearing a wide gash across his chest. His eyes flicked to mine in disbelief, "L-Langerd?" The Champion fell, joining the many others who would soon fall this day.

"I warned you." I muttered, preparing myself for the tide that came to wash me clean off the face of Thedas.

* * *

My chest heaved, I clutched at the wounds on my belly and shoulder as I surveyed the aftermath of the battle.

Kirkwall lay in ruins, shattered down to its foundations by the meteors I called from Thedas' skies. The walls and high towers were broken down, and the nothing but the weathered statues of the Heroes Plaza remained of the city. Scattered about me were the mountains of dead Free Marches soldiers, all called forth from their cities to deal with the threat I posed when I destroyed the Gallows. Kirkwallers, men of Starkhaven and Tantervale...they all perished in the attempt to put me down.

Amongst their charred and mutilated corpses lay the bodies of my former allies.

The battle that started from the Gallows had not been concluded in a day, for I proved too powerful a foe to vanquish. I had held back all this time, never revealing my true potential as an undying warrior of Heide. And I never hesitated to cut them down when they faced me. Though their defiance angered me, I granted them a swift and merciful end whenever I could.

I had thrown Prince Sebastian across the Gallows courtyard the first day, making him the next of many casualties in this war of mine. He broke his neck as he landed hard against one of the bronze slave statues seared into the pillars. He died instantly.

Isabela, enraged over the death of her lover, proved to be quite a challenge with her quick blades and agile body. To me, she was little more than chaff to be discarded, and I treated her as such. Her death was swiftly dealt.

Next came Aveline, whom I battled to shatter the resolve of her men. The Guard-Captain struggled to put up a good fight, but she died to my blade just as easily. With her death, the guardsmen faltered and retreated back to Kirkwall.

With the deaths of these noble warriors, it became very clear to the survivors that I was beyond redemption, and so the hesitation in their front was discarded. Fenris, brave little wolf, came at me with the strength of ten men. But he needed a lot more than that, he too perished in a ball of flame, although he managed to shatter a few ribs of mine and severely impaired my balance.

Varric thought it wise to strike with Bianca from a distance, which served to keep him clear from my blade. But it did not keep him safe from my spells. I crushed his tiny body in a punishing grip from a single thought, and then moved on to the next battle.

Merrill, in her desperation, summoned her demon friend and tried to incapacitate me for Ander's attack. Blood magic was strong, but it still wasn't enough to keep me down. I killed them too, carving up a path to the city. Bethany was the only one who escaped to tell the tale, and she left the Free Marches with her family. I did not pursue them, for I had far bigger prey to chase.

There, I engorged myself with the heavy influx of souls from the armies that came to fight me. My thirst for death returned, having been ignored for so long and ever more eager to be sated.

Days passed, and I left the city as I vowed. Burned and reduced to ash and rubble.

With my vow fulfilled, I collapsed upon weary and weakened knees, at an absolute loss for what to do next.

"There is nothing left...nothing." I rasped, at last feeling the sting of a hundred arrows digging into my back. "What is this 'life', but hell? A limbo of torment..."

In silence, I stared at the flames rising from the ruined city. Then, the Dark One approached me from the void.

He came in a form of grasping, living roots and branches pulsating with the powers of the Dark. Then, the form opened like some disheveled clam, revealing the Dark One in all his malevolent splendor! For the first time, since our rare encounters, Nahr Alma spoke to me. It was like a thousand screaming voices, like a raging waterfall that would drown out the world should you step into its showers.

 _ **"You have served me well, brave Undead..."**_ The wretched thing said, _**"But what is this burden you bear?"**_

"You know full well what I feel, Dark One." I answered.

 _ **"I do..I do...What would you do if I gave you a chance to make it all right? What are you prepared to sacrifice...to bring back your beloved Riven?"**_

Straight to the point. I like it. "I would die a thousand deaths to bring her back!"

 _ **"Will you pledge your soul to me? If I forced the stars to turn back, if I dragged the winds of time in reverse..would you serve me willingly, Knight of Heide?"**_

I've got nothing to lose. I don't see the Maker or his Prophetess giving me the same choice.

I extended my hand to grasp the Dark One's own, "Do it. Turn it all back, return me to that moment...that I may save my beloved Riven!"

The branches enwreathed my arm, I felt time slow to a crawl before a flash of light blinded me momentarily and set a deafening ring within my ears.

* * *

I was back in the Gallows isle, to the time before the Knight-Commander had taken Riven to be forced into the Rite of Tranquility. Nahr Alma had placed me right smack in the middle of the assembly courtyard, directly in front of the Gallows Keep and in the path of the Templars carrying the still-unconscious body of my daughter in their arms. Knight-Captain Cullen was among them, just about leading his team of witch-hunters out of the transport sloop from the harbor.

The Dark One had honored the deal, and I shall honor mine in time. But first, Riven must be liberated.

"You!" Knight-Captain Cullen gasped, "You've harbored this girl knowing she was a dangerous apostate! You're under arrest."

"I killed you in another life, Knight-Captain." I said as I drew my sword, knowing full well that the Templars were upon me. It was like the first time I've slaughtered my way through the Gallows, but this instance would bear a different fruit. Nothing will stop me from wresting my child free from their clutches and out of the Free Marches. "Do not make me do it a second time."

Confusion was visible upon his face, but Cullen stood his ground. "Take him!"

I channeled the Soul Furnace to its highest point, then detonated the sphere, throwing the Templars off their feet. They dropped Riven to the floor, leaving her free for me to rescue, and so I did. With one swoop of the arm, I lifted the motionless girl off the ground and raced for the harbor. The boatswain was still aboard, and he drew his sword upon seeing me enter with the Templars not too far behind.

A flash of fire set the man aflame, and I seized the oar laying at my feet to push the sloop free from the harbor. Arrows whizzed by as the Templars desperately attempted to prevent my escape, but were largely unsuccessful.

I heaved a sigh of relief as the isle was left far behind, "Godsdamn. That was close."

"Wha..What happened?" Riven groaned, hand on the lump on her forehead. She looked up at me in confusion, "Papa? What are you doing here? I thought you were still away with Aunt Izzie on that quest with the King."

I didn't answer, overwhelmed with relief and joy at seeing my daughter alive and well. I gathered her up in my arms and embraced her tightly, "I thought I had lost you forever!"

"Um...yeah, okay. It's good to see you back, Papa." Riven hugged me in return. When she withdrew, her bright green eyes stared up at me quizzically. "Papa? What's wrong?"

She was here! The Mark of Tranquility was not upon her forehead! Everything that had come to pass for me had not occurred here! I swallowed the realization, mind frantically searching for a plan to get her out of the city. I had to find Leliana. She was the only one I could trust now. "The Templars will hunt you down now. I must get you out of Kirkwall."

"But...what about our home? The castle?" Riven began, "Where will we go?"

"Anywhere far from here." I answered, guiding the boat to the Lowtown Docks. I quickened our pace as we crossed the wooden decks of the harbor, heading straight for the Hanged Man where I would undoubtedly find Leliana gathering her allies for the assault on the Gallows. Sure enough, I found her conversing with Varric and the others.

"Langerd!" Leliana cried, astonished to see me with Riven. "You're here? How did you..."

"Long story, one that I may never share." I answered, "You have to take her away from the city. Meredith's coming, and no doubt she's going to come for the Circle in retaliation."

"What makes you say that?" She asked.

"If a mage attacked the Gallows and stole away an apostate from the Templars' grasp, who do you think they'll hold responsible first?" I replied, "Even so, I don't want Riven here when it happens."

"Understood." Leliana reached for Riven's hand, "Come, child. I can handle the guards at the gate, we'll get you somewhere safe, I promise."

Riven was sad, I could see it in her eyes as we left the only home she'd ever known behind. Garret and the others prepared for Meredith's wrath as they remained in Kirkwall. I had set off another chain of events that could upset the balance of power in the Free Marches, but I cared little for that at this point, knowing the alternative. This one was preferable, even though I also was aware of the price of my actions.

We had ridden far into the mountains with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the horses galloping between our legs. I had gotten a fair distance from Kirkwall's borders, close to the Wounded Coast, before a strong force threw me off my mount and had me land hard upon the sandy ground! Riven cried out in fear as the dark roots sprung free from the soil, wrapping quickly upon my limbs as Nahr Alma came to claim his due.

 _ **"You're mine, Knight of Heide!"**_ The Dark One cackled.

"Wait, not yet!" I struggled to get free, but knew it was useless.

"Papa!" Riven leaped off her saddle and ran to my side, pulling on to my outstretched hand in an attempt to loosen the growing branches' grip on me. This too proved fruitless, no matter how hard she tried.

"Let go, child!" I said, "Let go!"

"No! I won't lose you too!" Riven cried, stubbornly clinging on to me.

"It was either you or me, I made the choice!" I screamed, feeling myself sink deeper into the abyss. "Let me go, child! This world needs you more than it does me!"

"But Papa!"

Nahr Alma pulled harder, and I felt Riven's hand slip free from my wrist. It was done. I now belonged to the Dark One, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I was a fool to think I was anything otherwise, for in the end all undead serve Nahr Alma.

"I love you, Riven!" I managed to utter before the maw of darkness swallowed me whole.

 **}!{**

 **Whoo-hoo! Praise the Sun! Book One's finished!**

 **What, you didn't think it will end here, did you? XD No worries, it doesn't. It's been a good run with you guys, and I'm forever grateful for you all sticking with me till the epic finish. Book Two's not too far away, I don't need to say so but I'll do so anyway- follow up or mark me as a favorite to get notified when I post the next book.**

 **With all that written down, I bid you all good day and thank you again for your continued support!**


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